Like a rum with a slice of lemon on the rocks, my orientation was just a little meticulous. For one man only, I did make an exception. I wore a thong ...or him solely, but not for conception. It was an alright fine adjustment made. The decision was mine, in an exchange to get paid. He was straight even. Not homo. He did not get nude. Oh no. I just didn't want be rude. To wrestle with me was his desire. I was at least a semi pro sex worker for hire. But it was always like that. On my pedestal I. The pale man pushed back slurping in the swollen purple head and with a gasp of ecstatic pleasure pushed back more until he had taken the full eight inches whole. Back and forth he slid slowly along the tanned mans prized possession. Taking all the pleasure of that swollen phallus with his myriad of nerve endings. The man above took charge and thrust back and forth more urgently now, gaining momentum with each stroke, and as with each of those strokes rose a moan of pleasure from the mouth of. More

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