’ In the scant seconds before the chair completed its one hundred and eighty degree rotation I noticed the picture on the wall. A photograph. Two me..., one woman. Even from here I could identify one of the men. It was Anton, the owner of the Mill House Hotel. I’d know that beard anywhere. They were standing in front of a water wheel. My gaze slid to the desk, to a smaller photo in a silver frame, this time picturing a laughing woman. Pretty, in her late twenties I would guess, her hair a long,. "Beautiful!" Mama said... you must make it... slippery, for..." For?" I ask quietly."To put your... thing in me."Overjoyed and boiling with desire, I bend down and kiss her between her legs. Her body jerks and she emits a little gasp. I ask her if she's all right and she motions for me to continue. I willingly set about the task of preparing my bride-to-be for physical union. With me lapping gently at her sex, she writhes and sighs in appreciation. So expert with the tongue have I become that. Stupid men growled Anya as she settled more comfortably into the chair, no way in hell she was going willingly to that bed. Too exhausted to even shower Anya felt her eyes drift shut, and the world thankfully faded away. Anya watched the water fall from the rocks above her, the drops splashing onto her feet and legs. Laughing she ran under it, soon saturated she jogged over onto the sandy beach. Sighing and feeling free without clothes Anya stretched out, her arms lying next to her head and. The only clothes she could wear were short skirts or dresses and her blouses would be thin , collarless , sleeveless front button. She would also wear dark , thigh high , silky stockings with dark flat shoes. She begged me not to make her wear these clothes explaining that she did not have the body to wear those clothes. I laughed telling her to wear it anyway. I told her to keep her Sunday open. That Sunday she showed up dressed as I dictated and she drove us to the local mall. Arriving there.