" Footman," he corrected.I know Nigel, and I am quite sure that the only reason he was so brazen as to correct the mistress was because he was despera...ely trying not to commit the particularly egregious sin of impregnating his mistress."Footman," she said, leaning over to brush her hanging breasts across his chest. Her ruby red lips hovered over his. "I seem to remember, Nigel, that your footman's balls deliver prodigious amounts of warm, slippery liquid. You aren't going to do that to me. I look at you, admiring the beauty. You lift your arms to me. I lie down next to you and we hold each other for the moment…savoring our time together. I touch you…. The heat is radiating off you. I bend down and take a nipple into my mouth. You moan. I start licking my way down again….down ….down…I lightly lick your pussy. You want more as I lick on down to your knees…then your feet…down to your toes. As I suck on each toe you start moaning aloud. I work my way back up to your. The more she wiggled it, the higher the tent pitched below his waist became. "I see you like when I shake it like that, huh?" "I can't hold back—you're a smoke. That fat, tan ass; the way you throw it around; that whoreshly professional outfit." "Aw, thank you baby." "But I could still use some actual counseling from time to time." "We'll get back to that, I promise. But as for right now—" She peeled back her leggings so her exposed ass hovered above him with all its glory. Her wet pussy,. Usually when I was bound that way there would be two old well-used small pans of melted candle wax being kept warm over the double burners of his camping stove. Q would alternate between the pans to keep the wax hot as he dripped the molten liquid over the tender undersides of my breast, down the inside of my thighs, onto my clit and asshole and if he felt particularly cruel or sensed I needed it, he dripped the hot wax into my gapping pussy.This time, however, there was no candle wax heating.