Number Three:I love it when I can hear in the tone of their voice, and the way their breathing becomes more labored, that they have truly 'given' them...elves over to me! Then, after words, as their cocks begin to slowly sag, and they get ready to leave, they take a moment to thank me---that's another wonderful thing I often remember: their GRATEFULNESS. Yes. Their gratefulness for me lavishing so much time and attention onto them like that, always makes me smile.Number Four:Younger men! Oh, god. His lips were blue in the firelight and his body shuddered every few seconds. The small cuts covering his body were not something to be happy about, but the worst news were the gashes from the sword. She cleaned the gashes first, wincing each time she peeled dried blood, grime, hair and dirt from him. ‘Gentle Spirit?’ His labored voice was only able to make a whisper of a sound. He had a slight accent, a hint of something from the south. His brow was lined with pain, his eyes were slits. She. I am naturally nervous as I arrive at Her door. I ring the bell, and almost immediately the door opens and there stands Her full-time permanent maid, vikki. She is wearing sparkly pink platforms, white seamed stockings, a blonde curly wig, full makeup including the shiniest pink lipstick you can imagine and the most gorgeous dress I’ve ever seen.It is blue satin with pink ruffles and bows, layers and layers of petticoats underneath, and a white glass-silk, full-body pinafore and matching cap.. 
" In New South Wales, where there are large Samoan, Italian, and Indian populations, I see the kids all speaking in a similar way, wearing the same clothes, they all have the same piercings, and they seem to have a tolerant approach to each others' ethnic heritages," said Angus."Okay. Grilling's over. We brought Martha here. We really like her. And I know what blokes are like." Well this bloke really likes her, too. She's my muse. I want her to be my permanent muse. But she's wary. Afraid. I'm.