‘Ah, of course.’ Sir Hartley beamed in triumph at having overcome that particular hurdle. ‘I’ve ordered a bottle of Chablis. If you would pref...r something different….’ ‘No…no, Chablis would be great.’ ‘You’ll be an escort for a very popular broadcaster tonight, Mrs….erm….Rachel. At least, he’s popular in his own country, but I soon hope to make his name known over here. Bernardo Martine, from South America.’ ‘Is that what I am, Sir Hartley?’ enquired Rachel. ‘An escort?’ ‘Well…erm…in a manner. Today was the day he was going to use her properly.He moved slowly through the house until he found her bedroom. He stepped in and saw her on top of the covers wearing a long t-shirt that had ridden above her waist. He licked his lips at the sight of her long legs and shapely ass.He pulled his knife from his pocket and step toward the bed…Sherry awoke to the terror of a man’s hand over her mouth and a knife to her throat. She felt a heavy body on top of her. She looked up at a face full of. The rocky outcrops are fabulous positions to look out over the landscape. As I looked out on this particular Sunday, I started to feel sexy. For no reason I could think of, I started breathing heavy as I felt the cool breeze flood through my open necked top and onto my breasts. I felt the need to feel the same breeze across my thighs and pussy. I started to wonder how it would feel if a constant cold breeze were to rush over my pussy and tickle my clit. I wondered if I would cum. I stood near. I kept the nylon stockings Aunty Betty gave me under my pillow in a small plastic bag to keep them smelling of her feet. Every day I would sniff them while pulling myself off and would often wear them and run my hand along my thighs while wanking.One morning I lay in bed a little too long and got to a lecture late, the only seat left was next to a black girl so I sat down and apologised for disturbing her, she looked at me with the most amazing smile and softly said, “it’s ok, don’t worry” my.