"Do you have coffee on, bitch? A new, full pot?" Mr. S asked as he crossed to the kitchen table and sat on a chair after turning it to face his bitch....Yes Master Mike, would you like a cup?" Dianka asked, already reaching for a mug."Not just yet bitch," Mr. S said. "I want company to have coffee with and your slut ass doesn't count. You will go next door and invite Barbara Sanders over to join me for coffee." But Master Mike, I..." Mr. S cut the slut off."I didn't ask, I ordered, you bitch" he. She had to pull his pants even further back to get it out but she managed it and again sat back, this time her eyes fixed on this obelisk of flesh before her. Lifting himself in his seat the man ran his thumbs around his trousers and pants lowering them more before sitting back down and picking up his drink and cigar."Now take it in both hands"Reaching out with both hands it felt like an eternity passed as her hands crossed that small space.Shaking, her hands grasped it from either side, her. It must have been in 1959 or '60 that I set out from the San Francisco Bay area to Mexico on my old Harley Davidson motorcycle.The Harley broke down on the Santa Monica Pier and I was too broke to buy the parts to fix it. I was befriended by John and Anna, who owned the Venice West Cafe. They fed me delicious hamburgers and all the coffee I could drink.While hanging out there, I attracted the attention of a very nice older man. He wasn't all that old, maybe in his early thirties. That seemed. “What are you doing?” he asked, voice laden with lust. “Just you wait and see!” I said sensually. I pushed him back onto his double bed and straddled his lap. I could feel his erection beneath me, trapped within his trousers. I pulled his top off over his head and licked rings around his nipples, and planted kisses right on top of them. I took his groaning as a good sign. I sensually licked my way down to his belt buckle where I quickly un-did it and pulled his trousers down. “Ah. No boxers?.