In the first place, her nipples were a rosy red to begin with; the rouge likely wouldn’t even show. Moreover, it might rub off on the inside of her ...hirt, which would be terminally tacky.Having completed the time-consuming elements of her personal preparation, she slipped on a pair of short-short Levi’s cut-offs and then a work shirt with the sleeves torn off at the shoulders. She tied the shirttails together under her breasts. Or where my breasts would be if I had any, she thought.After. "I managed to find the fastening and undid the zip, rubbing my hand down Pauline's back, hearing her purr as I did so,"Thank you master." slave replied,I spoke into her ear. "Why are you in control and not Pauline?"She looked at me, "Pauline doesn't like the woman behind the sales counter, so I took control of the body, and this seemed the best thing for us." I nodded my understanding."But slave you must understand that sometimes it is better for Pauline to be present to face her fears,. I could feel my throat muscles crying out in torture as they were stretched well beyond their normal range. And still it came. I was glad I had had a chance to at least wet it a little as he continued to stuff it down my throat. Luckily my gag urge was well suppressed as he drove the final few inches home. I could not believe the way my throat was stretched, feeling like I had a neck splint preventing me from moving my head. My nose was finally buried in his musty pubic region. I had done it,. I place my hand delicately on my white chest - about to blister and melt in the sun, and let my fingers run, run, run.... down my neck, a sort of spout. I can feel the desire fill my cock, the way red wine fills jars - or a blossom is made. My thighs shift and squirm. I can still taste the fig on my tongue - so sweet, in all its fleshiness. Down, down - valleys made of skin. My mouth is gaping - as if for use, as if any man or woman might shove their tongue in it, lick out all that fig from it,.