The door was closed, but I figured if anyone was in there they would lock the door and due to its location, the door was more than likely closed most ...f the time, even when unoccupied. Well I walked to the door and I don’t remember if I just pushed it open or turned the knob. Either way the door opened. I stepped in and turned as I was closing the door. When I turned to face the toilet, I saw her. She was sitting there on the toilet with her outfit around her ankles. I said shit, sorry. She. Thinking about relationships, work, the economy. Tonight though he is thinking about writing those short stories he very much enjoys. He is trying to creatively manifest a new story. What would be the plot, characters, environment, etc.?. Then he thinks of something. A story about someone reading a story. He thinks more about it, trying to further conceive a plot. He then thinks of what it might be like in Hell. A random thought, he knows. But what if? He begins to form a general idea in his. He started touching you, first your arm, then your back then his hand would trace your back from your neck to your ass. Very gently but quickly. Soon you were returning his with touches of your own. Caressing his arm, tugging his shirt when he had a small hit. Your left hand brushed against the growing bulge in his pants, just for a millisecond. The next time you won, he leaned over and kissed your mouth, I could see your tongues dance for 3 or 4 seconds. I watched his hand resting high on your. With the towel around my waist and my cramps beginning I waddled over to her. “No, no. That’s not how you wear a towel little bitch, here.” She took it off me and wrapped it around my body so it covered my nipples. “There, that’s how girls wear a towel.” “Yes Mistress” I replied. “Now we have to make you pretty.” Tara said and opened up her makeup box. She applied foundation, eye shadow, mascara, and of course some bright red fuck me lipstick. I turned to the mirror when she was done and saw.