Please myself really badly." I say and blush, noticing how she stops rubbing my hand and gets shocked for a half of second."It's normal behaviour of y...ung male mind." She says as she looks at me. "Nothing to worry about, baby boy." I swallow and look up at her beautiful brown eyes."That's not all, mommy... you are the only one who I get off to. No other female turns me on." As I say this and quickly look at her amazing bust covered by white sweater."Really?" She says surprised but quickly. All in all whatever way I look at it its a good life.All ways and always.It's funny when I think of all the people that would be disgusted bysuch a 'perverse' way of life. Amos and Caroline always tell me that Iam a real Godsend. I wonder what the pope would make of that. All inall a result, wouldn't you say?P.S. One last thing before I forget. Amos is in his mid sixties now andI am close to my sixtieth. And every single morning for the last threeyears he is woken gently with his woman sucking. It was designed that way of course; everything here was designed so that the punters could forget their cold hard vicious prison lives and emerge themselves in a fantasy world of debauchery. The irony was that façade of the workrooms was as false as the façade of the girls that worked in them. The girls were men! Transvestite prostitutes; some of them who worked for the money even liked what they did and others like me were blackmailed and bullied into servitude."Steve's been spending some. I wore a lacy black bustiere that firmly held my 38C breast forms. Over this luscious lingerie I wore my favorite silk lined navy cashmere sweater with matching skirt. This outfit clings to you in all of the right places. My now long hair was teased a bit and pulled back in a high hanging ponytail. I had dark red nail polish on my manicured finger nails, big hoop earrings in my now pierced ears and few bangles on my left arm and a come hither make up job. I must say, last year I looked good but.