“She ignored me. As you can imagine she was much sought after. I followed her around like a love sick pup — which is what she called me—besides ...nother, uncalled for, name.”Annette prompted me. “Go on — what else did she call you?”“She called me ‘a little farmer’s boy with a little sickle’. She said she only wanted grown men with big scythes.”“Well, your little sickle has grown into a huge, wonderful, scythe, and she is the loser. What happened to her?”“An itinerant thatcher, Dennis by name,. A few of them gawked, but none of them complained. Karen could not believe her sister dared to walk out to the yard and get a tan.“You’d be surprised how many of my customers are just walking by. I ask them if they want to put a little suntan lotion on me. We start talking, and one thing leads to another,” Betty smiled.She typically had four to five customer sessions a day. Most men wanted kinky sex. A few of them wanted rough sex.The ones who had weird or exotic requests were the ones that. You can see her perky nipples through the top and notice that she has nothing covering her bottom. You bring her in outside of the cold and pull her close to give her some warmth. Then you lead her to the living room and sit her on top of the piano and spread her legs so you can get a better view of her freshly shaven pussy. She enjoys you looking and moves her hand down to the top of her clit and starts to rub it. You want to taste her but she does not let you she makes you watch her. . but I can't stand extreme pain.Anyway, the man stopped pacing and then looked at me. I could tell that he liked my body, and what it had to offer."Blondage."His term caught me off-guard. What did he say? "Huh?" Blondage," he repeated. "You are a blonde in bondage. Blondage. It's one of my favorite sexual activities."I liked that, and even smiled because of it. What a neat and unique word. I certainly never heard it before.The man took a seat next to me and reached out with both hands, then.