I’m still in my dress jacket, my pants are on my left leg together with a shiny, Italian shoe. My underpants are ripped open, exposing my poor littl... man pussy. My left foot have lost the shoe, but my dress socks with garters are in the air together with my dignity – Stephan likes that.Me too.Stephan’s specialty is married family men. He likes the idea that they, after their encounters, stumbling home to wife and k**s with the strong feel of his manhood up their ass and still the taste of man. ‘What? What do you mean by that?’ The man looked around, unsure of himself, sure of what he wanted to say, unsure of how to say it. ‘I saw you play in Paris once,’ he finally said and Anna quickly looked away, her eyes now distant, almost vacant. Neither knew what to say as memories drifted in the air between them, and time seemed to slow, then stop. Sasha longer to hear her play again, Anna longed for the silence of oblivion. ‘That was a long time ago,’ she said at last. ‘Another life.’ ‘I. More

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