New Secretory That I Hired Is A Bitch | Part 1

For my own sake then - and Hazel's?" "By 'eck," he said, "will you two ever set your hearts on marriage?" "Only to each other, father." "Be off with you," he said, "and be sure to look your best for Postlethwaite." Father smiled and sighed, a response that reflected the paradox of our time, one that saw remarkable progress walking hand in hand with oppression. England had walloped the French at Trafalgar, yet feared revolution at home, a potential shift of power our ruling aristocracy determined to prevent, no matter how great the cost to liberty and justice. As young women, Hazel and I had no power, but we were free enough to cast off our corsets in favour of the unrestrained fashions inspired by the Romantics. We delighted in more natural expressions of ourselves, we truly believed that something as simple as delicate, flowing dresses might light the path to equality for women - it did, the path led to her bed. What could possibly be more fairly balanced than two petite girls. Her costume echoed my own revealing her tight abdomen, tight athletic thighs and fabulous breasts. We settled down to some deep talking and her hand finally settled just above my left knee. Her light touch immediately set my 'light sleeper' on fire, pushing up against the material of my loincloth. Her hand continued its course along my thigh then moved up to my abs and chest. She was loving her journey tracing her fingers through the ridges of muscle there—my lust become almost painful. My own hand found her thigh and I savored her almost frictionless soft skin and loved the feeling of the firm muscle beneath; I later found out she was a gym instructor. We kissed there, touching each other's bodies. My now fully-erect member was nearly bursting out to be touched. Luckily as I cupped her now exposed breasts she pulled the string on the side of my loin cloth and it fell away letting me free. Her hand worked along the length wiping the dew at the end into the head making it all slick.
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