I was a normal person. And part of me still is: I'm 27 years old and physically normal, complete and absolutely normal, almost ugly. I'm 1.70 meters tall and weigh 90 kilograms, which produces a body whose main exponent is my belly. I don't have an enormous penis, quite the opposite: about 12 centimeters. I have short brown hair.
My romantic life has always been absent, my contacts with women (at least until the beginning of this story) are based on prostitutes I've hired throughout my life.
I work for a multinational company in Madrid, and when everything started, I had a well-paid job that allowed me to live a life with sufficient indulgences.
As you can see, I'm normal. And my life was too, even boring. At least it was until the incident occurred, the day my life crossed with him. Everything started one night when I was coming home from work. As usual in the last few weeks, I had to do extra hours to catch up on a project that the company had high hopes for.
I had little time left before arriving at my house, when I saw a car that had gone off the road. I parked in front of it, signalled the area and called emergency services. Many would have kept going, but since I lost my parents in a car accident, I couldn't just leave without more.
I approached the crashed car, there was an unconscious man. He was older than me, but shouldn't be over fifty years old. He wore a expensive-looking suit and a watch usually only admired in jewelry stores.
When I saw he didn't seem to have serious injuries, I calmed down a bit and waited for emergency services to arrive. The Civil Guard, firefighters, and an ambulance came.
After explaining the traffic agents what I had seen and done, they thanked me and told me I could go. And that's what I did, wanting to get home and end the day. Finally, I arrived home. I live in... Outside of Madrid, in a chalet about an hour from the company. I bought it five years ago, shortly after my parents' death. Initially, it was a paired house with another identical one, but over two years ago, I bought it from its former tenants. After some renovations, I had converted it into a two-story palace with an immense garage.
The ground floor consisted of the living room, kitchen, bathroom, and pantry. The upper floor had four bedrooms and two bathrooms. It also had a pool and garden.
When I entered the house, I quickly changed and made myself something to eat since it was almost midnight between things. After watching a series on Netflix to relax, I went to bed and forgot about the accident.
The following days were unbearable: home - work - home. My social life, which was already precarious, had been interrupted by the effort I had to dedicate to the project.
Nine days after the accident, near dinner time, the doorbell rang at my house. I was shocked to find the injured man accompanied by a young woman.
Good morning, said the man, offering me his hand. My name is Manuel. You're Victor, aren't you? You saved my life almost two weeks ago.
I remember, I replied while shaking his hand. You're the one from the crashed car. How can I help you? Do you need my insurance information or something?
The man burst out laughing.
That's how I like it - straight to the point. No, I just want to show my gratitude for such a heroic act. Can I come in? I have something to propose.
I stepped aside so both of them could enter my house. I accompanied them to the living room and asked if they wanted something to drink. Manuel's negative response was met with silence from the girl, who didn't lift her eyes off the floor.
After sitting down, Manuel spoke up again:
Let me reintroduce myself: Manuel Ferrer, I'm a businessman with presence in several sectors. But what brought me here is the ' sector dedicated to the business of high-standing pleasure. For a moment, surprise could have gotten the best of me. —Do you work with prostitutes? The man pulled out his best smile. —Yes and no. Let me explain that prostitution has several branches. From large organizations that prostitute girls on the street in precarious conditions through fear and blackmail to those people who provide pleasure with high-caliber girls in a complete and absolutely legal manner, without forcing or blackmailing anyone. —And I suppose you'll be from the last group— Manuel nodded—Excuse me, Manuel. But I don't understand what that has to do with me. —I've already reached that point, calm down. As I said, I'm dedicated to high-standing pleasure in two main branches: in the first, I provide quality escorts to clients with great purchasing power so they can have fun for a few hours or days; and in the second, I train and sell women as slaves. With the consent of those involved, of course. —Sexual slaves?—I asked, astonished—Master-slave and sadomasochism? —To some extent, yes. But my services go beyond that level. I provide permanent slaves to a select group of influential characters who serve them for life, not just in the sexual sphere: their services include everything their owners want. —And what could drive a woman to that lifestyle? Manuel shrugged. —Pleasure, need, or curiosity. The reasons are varied. I looked at the girl. —I suppose she's one of your high-standing escorts. Do you want me to sleep with her as a reward for doing what I should do? —It's true that the girl works for me. But she's not one of my escorts. No, she's one of my slaves. One of the most recent ones, in fact. Introduce yourself. —Yes, sir—The girl said with a sweet voice—My name is Marga, I'm 21 years old. As you've said, I'm one of the Lord Manuel's slaves. Look at the floor. —Very well. Clear and concise, as it should be —Said Manuel, provoking a fleeting smile on the young woman— I have a small problem with Marga. I would have been the slave of someone who unfortunately died in an accident less than a day ago. Which leaves me the problem of what to do with her. —Do you want me to take care of Marga? —That would undoubtedly be beneficial for both of us. I'll cover the expenses of her maintenance and you'll gain female company. Do you think she's pretty? After a gesture from Manuel, the girl stood up and turned around slowly. I looked at Marga again. She was, without a doubt, a bomb: Something more petite than me, with red hair that fell to her shoulders and precious blue eyes. She didn't have prominent breasts but had a wasp waist and almost perfect buttocks. She wore tight jeans and a red blouse. —Of course I think so! She's beautiful! —And she can be all yours for life. You can do whatever you want with her, from savagely sleeping with her to having her as a maid. I looked at Marga, surprised that she wasn't saying anything. —And what about you? Don't you have anything to say? —I asked Marga— We're talking about your life, your future. She looked at me with her crystal-clear blue eyes. —I'll accept whatever my Lord decides with pleasure. —What's the trick? —I asked— Why do you agree to this? Marga looked dubitatively at Manuel, who nodded. —My mother is ill. And the treatment is expensive; I couldn't afford it on my own. In exchange for this, Lord Manuel offers to take care of her. I looked surprised at Manuel, who didn't seem like such a caricatured soul. —My slaves have a lot of fame in certain sectors. A slave like Marga sells at such a high price that taking care of her mother's expenses wouldn't be a problem for me. —But you won't benefit from this. I don't think I'll pay to have a slave. And even doubt being able to pay whatever she asks for Marga. — I would leave completely free, except for my maintenance, of course. It's my reward for saving my life. A life with Marga.
Normally I would have said no, but Marga was a flag girl. Imagining myself next to a girl like her was too much for me. I gave in.
—I accept. I'll stay with her.
Manuel jumped up from his seat and slapped his hand down.
—Great! Perfect!
He pulled out some papers from thin air.
—you have to sign this. Don't worry, it's so we can't be accused of kidnapping or anything like that.
I read the document carefully: it was almost like buying an animal. According to it, I committed to caring for her, feeding her, dressing her, and everything else necessary to give her a dignified life. In return, she offered to serve me in all things I desired.
The only limits were death and irreparable physical harm.
After a toast to celebrate, Manuel left me with an incredibly nervous Marga.
—Then —I said doubtfully— Do you now belong to me?
Marga nodded and started talking rapidly.
—Yes, Sir. Can I call you Sir? I can call you whatever you like. You can call me whatever you please...
—I raised my hand for her to stop.
—it's not necessary to call me sir. Victor is fine with me. Is Marga your real name?
—No. My name is Irene —She got nervous again— Don't think I lied, it was to protect myself in case you didn't stay with me.
I smiled. A part of me loved that a girl of her caliber showed such nervousness around me. Usually it was the other way around. I moved closer until I was pressed against her. I passed my hand over her cheek.
—Can I fuck you right now?
She turned completely red and swallowed saliva, but remained completely quiet.
—you can do with me whatever you want.
I lowered my hand to her chin and forced her to lift her face and look at me.
—Tell me, Irene. Are you a virgin?
—N... No.
I suffered a small disappointment; I would have liked to deflower her. She seemed to notice the disappointment and its level of nervousness rose another step, although it seemed impossible.
—I've only maintained sexual relationships twice. Before working for Mr. Manuel. I've been months without sleeping with anyone.
I lowered my hand down her neck and along her breasts, until it reached her waist, sticking to her completely. Body against body. She didn't reject the contact. I could feel her breathing.
—And in these months haven't you wanted to have sex? By the way, Mr. sounds good. Address me that way.
She nodded.
—There are days when yes, Mr.
I decided I wanted to see her entirely, see how Irene's secret places were. I rubbed my lips against Irene's before separating from her.
—Undress, I want to see you entirely —I said with the roughest voice of my life— But do it slowly, I want to enjoy it.
Accompanying my words, I put on slow music and sat down on the sofa.
Irene understood immediately what she wanted from me and started moving slowly to the rhythm of the music. First, she took off her blouse, leaving her insinuating black bra in the air. With a gesture, I told her to start taking off her pants and shoes. In no time, she had taken off both and left on view a thong matching the bra.
For several minutes, Irene enjoyed dancing and finally brought her hands behind her back. To take off her bra, but with a gesture, I stopped her and signaled my knees.
With the sexiest walk I'd ever seen and biting her lip, Irene approached me and sat down on my knees. One of her hands was on my chest, while the other hand slowly descended towards my pants, with a clear objective. At that moment, I decided to try those lips that had been calling me for a while, pulled her towards me and kissed her like I'd never kissed anyone before. She returned the kiss with the same passion as mine.
After several minutes, our mouths parted, gasping. I took off my shirt and her hand playing with the hairs on my chest, while her other
my cock was already out in the open. Bigger than ever. With a quick movement I took off her bra and observed with delight the two small but firm breasts that appeared. Her nipples, small and erect stood up defiantly. My right hand started playing with her nipples alternately, while the other made circles on her back. I started biting and kissing her neck, which added to my attention to her little tits made the first moan appear. I moved my hand from her back and slid it inside her thong, caressing her wet pussy. Not long after my slave started moving her hips in time with the rhythm of my hand, searching for pleasure. At that moment I decided to cum on my new acquisition. --Penetrate--I said into her ear--Slowly. And look at me. With a small movement she placed her cave just above my cock. She slowly rubbed her pussy over my penis, seeking to lubricate it a bit. Finally, looking at me fixedly and biting her lower lip, she lowered herself slowly. Impaling herself very slowly, just as I had asked. When she was fully impaled, she moaned softly and leaned her forehead on my chest. Not long after starting to move, we were moving at the same slow pace as when she first impaled herself. The slow movement together with the tightness of her cave was taking me to heaven. I lifted her head again to kiss her. This time our kisses were shorter than the first one we shared. Little by little we let ourselves be carried away by the moment: Irene started moving faster and I started moving violently underneath her. For a few minutes the penetration increased in rhythm until it became a collision of two wild animals searching for pleasure. After a few more minutes, I noticed I was reaching my limit. --I'm going to cum--I warned her. Since there was no protection on, I expected the girl to stop riding me so I could cum with my hand or, if lucky, with her mouth. But she didn't. She kept riding me with even more violence than before, until irremediablely I came inside her with a scream. Note that emptying myself in her interior caused a devastating orgasm in Irene, which ended up disheveled on top of me.
We stayed like that, gathering strength for almost ten minutes. After that little while, despite each fiber of my being begging me to stay in that position under Irene, I forced myself to get up.
Get up, I said. We have to eat. But first, let's wash up a bit.
I guided her to the bathroom and we helped each other out. When we had dried off, I decided to try those lips one more time before dinner and pushed her against the bathroom wall.
Despite her initial surprise, she quickly responded and during five minutes, we kissed desperately. Again, despite my body demanding otherwise. I separated myself to prepare dinner.
I can cook, Irene said with a certain pride. I'm good at it. What do you like? I can make anything, sir.
I thought for a moment.
Order a pizza. We've had enough of our new situation. It would be better to relax. You have the number in the fridge, I went to the living room, wrote my mobile number and gave it to her. They'll ask you for it when ordering pizzas.
She nodded and headed to the kitchen, about a minute later, I heard her again.
What do I order?
My chicken barbecue. Order whatever you like, I said.
Whatever my lord likes me to like, she replied.
Barbecue? She made a small imperceptible gesture of disgust almost. I smiled.
Barbecue will be it.
Despite having made it clear that she didn't like it, she didn't put up any fuss and in less than two minutes, she had ordered the pizzas.
For the rest of the night, we didn't do anything sexual, except kissing occasionally. We ate watching TV and I accompanied her to her room. When saying goodbye, she asked me:
Would you like me to wake someone up now and in some special way?
At six thirty, I said, and at that moment, something clicked. Special way? She blushed. I didn't understand how one could blush after... Riding the couch. —Well... you know. Kissing or with a blow job. I smiled alone just imagining the second one. —A good morning kiss after waking up is fine with me. She smiled. —Fine I stayed looking at her for a few seconds— Do you want anything else, sir? —A goodnight kiss. Irene smiled again and came closer to give me another kiss. When we separated, both of us were panting. I said goodbye to her and went to bed. Thinking about how well I was going to have it from now on.
My romantic life has always been absent, my contacts with women (at least until the beginning of this story) are based on prostitutes I've hired throughout my life.
I work for a multinational company in Madrid, and when everything started, I had a well-paid job that allowed me to live a life with sufficient indulgences.
As you can see, I'm normal. And my life was too, even boring. At least it was until the incident occurred, the day my life crossed with him. Everything started one night when I was coming home from work. As usual in the last few weeks, I had to do extra hours to catch up on a project that the company had high hopes for.
I had little time left before arriving at my house, when I saw a car that had gone off the road. I parked in front of it, signalled the area and called emergency services. Many would have kept going, but since I lost my parents in a car accident, I couldn't just leave without more.
I approached the crashed car, there was an unconscious man. He was older than me, but shouldn't be over fifty years old. He wore a expensive-looking suit and a watch usually only admired in jewelry stores.
When I saw he didn't seem to have serious injuries, I calmed down a bit and waited for emergency services to arrive. The Civil Guard, firefighters, and an ambulance came.
After explaining the traffic agents what I had seen and done, they thanked me and told me I could go. And that's what I did, wanting to get home and end the day. Finally, I arrived home. I live in... Outside of Madrid, in a chalet about an hour from the company. I bought it five years ago, shortly after my parents' death. Initially, it was a paired house with another identical one, but over two years ago, I bought it from its former tenants. After some renovations, I had converted it into a two-story palace with an immense garage.
The ground floor consisted of the living room, kitchen, bathroom, and pantry. The upper floor had four bedrooms and two bathrooms. It also had a pool and garden.
When I entered the house, I quickly changed and made myself something to eat since it was almost midnight between things. After watching a series on Netflix to relax, I went to bed and forgot about the accident.
The following days were unbearable: home - work - home. My social life, which was already precarious, had been interrupted by the effort I had to dedicate to the project.
Nine days after the accident, near dinner time, the doorbell rang at my house. I was shocked to find the injured man accompanied by a young woman.
Good morning, said the man, offering me his hand. My name is Manuel. You're Victor, aren't you? You saved my life almost two weeks ago.
I remember, I replied while shaking his hand. You're the one from the crashed car. How can I help you? Do you need my insurance information or something?
The man burst out laughing.
That's how I like it - straight to the point. No, I just want to show my gratitude for such a heroic act. Can I come in? I have something to propose.
I stepped aside so both of them could enter my house. I accompanied them to the living room and asked if they wanted something to drink. Manuel's negative response was met with silence from the girl, who didn't lift her eyes off the floor.
After sitting down, Manuel spoke up again:
Let me reintroduce myself: Manuel Ferrer, I'm a businessman with presence in several sectors. But what brought me here is the ' sector dedicated to the business of high-standing pleasure. For a moment, surprise could have gotten the best of me. —Do you work with prostitutes? The man pulled out his best smile. —Yes and no. Let me explain that prostitution has several branches. From large organizations that prostitute girls on the street in precarious conditions through fear and blackmail to those people who provide pleasure with high-caliber girls in a complete and absolutely legal manner, without forcing or blackmailing anyone. —And I suppose you'll be from the last group— Manuel nodded—Excuse me, Manuel. But I don't understand what that has to do with me. —I've already reached that point, calm down. As I said, I'm dedicated to high-standing pleasure in two main branches: in the first, I provide quality escorts to clients with great purchasing power so they can have fun for a few hours or days; and in the second, I train and sell women as slaves. With the consent of those involved, of course. —Sexual slaves?—I asked, astonished—Master-slave and sadomasochism? —To some extent, yes. But my services go beyond that level. I provide permanent slaves to a select group of influential characters who serve them for life, not just in the sexual sphere: their services include everything their owners want. —And what could drive a woman to that lifestyle? Manuel shrugged. —Pleasure, need, or curiosity. The reasons are varied. I looked at the girl. —I suppose she's one of your high-standing escorts. Do you want me to sleep with her as a reward for doing what I should do? —It's true that the girl works for me. But she's not one of my escorts. No, she's one of my slaves. One of the most recent ones, in fact. Introduce yourself. —Yes, sir—The girl said with a sweet voice—My name is Marga, I'm 21 years old. As you've said, I'm one of the Lord Manuel's slaves. Look at the floor. —Very well. Clear and concise, as it should be —Said Manuel, provoking a fleeting smile on the young woman— I have a small problem with Marga. I would have been the slave of someone who unfortunately died in an accident less than a day ago. Which leaves me the problem of what to do with her. —Do you want me to take care of Marga? —That would undoubtedly be beneficial for both of us. I'll cover the expenses of her maintenance and you'll gain female company. Do you think she's pretty? After a gesture from Manuel, the girl stood up and turned around slowly. I looked at Marga again. She was, without a doubt, a bomb: Something more petite than me, with red hair that fell to her shoulders and precious blue eyes. She didn't have prominent breasts but had a wasp waist and almost perfect buttocks. She wore tight jeans and a red blouse. —Of course I think so! She's beautiful! —And she can be all yours for life. You can do whatever you want with her, from savagely sleeping with her to having her as a maid. I looked at Marga, surprised that she wasn't saying anything. —And what about you? Don't you have anything to say? —I asked Marga— We're talking about your life, your future. She looked at me with her crystal-clear blue eyes. —I'll accept whatever my Lord decides with pleasure. —What's the trick? —I asked— Why do you agree to this? Marga looked dubitatively at Manuel, who nodded. —My mother is ill. And the treatment is expensive; I couldn't afford it on my own. In exchange for this, Lord Manuel offers to take care of her. I looked surprised at Manuel, who didn't seem like such a caricatured soul. —My slaves have a lot of fame in certain sectors. A slave like Marga sells at such a high price that taking care of her mother's expenses wouldn't be a problem for me. —But you won't benefit from this. I don't think I'll pay to have a slave. And even doubt being able to pay whatever she asks for Marga. — I would leave completely free, except for my maintenance, of course. It's my reward for saving my life. A life with Marga.
Normally I would have said no, but Marga was a flag girl. Imagining myself next to a girl like her was too much for me. I gave in.
—I accept. I'll stay with her.
Manuel jumped up from his seat and slapped his hand down.
—Great! Perfect!
He pulled out some papers from thin air.
—you have to sign this. Don't worry, it's so we can't be accused of kidnapping or anything like that.
I read the document carefully: it was almost like buying an animal. According to it, I committed to caring for her, feeding her, dressing her, and everything else necessary to give her a dignified life. In return, she offered to serve me in all things I desired.
The only limits were death and irreparable physical harm.
After a toast to celebrate, Manuel left me with an incredibly nervous Marga.
—Then —I said doubtfully— Do you now belong to me?
Marga nodded and started talking rapidly.
—Yes, Sir. Can I call you Sir? I can call you whatever you like. You can call me whatever you please...
—I raised my hand for her to stop.
—it's not necessary to call me sir. Victor is fine with me. Is Marga your real name?
—No. My name is Irene —She got nervous again— Don't think I lied, it was to protect myself in case you didn't stay with me.
I smiled. A part of me loved that a girl of her caliber showed such nervousness around me. Usually it was the other way around. I moved closer until I was pressed against her. I passed my hand over her cheek.
—Can I fuck you right now?
She turned completely red and swallowed saliva, but remained completely quiet.
—you can do with me whatever you want.
I lowered my hand to her chin and forced her to lift her face and look at me.
—Tell me, Irene. Are you a virgin?
—N... No.
I suffered a small disappointment; I would have liked to deflower her. She seemed to notice the disappointment and its level of nervousness rose another step, although it seemed impossible.
—I've only maintained sexual relationships twice. Before working for Mr. Manuel. I've been months without sleeping with anyone.
I lowered my hand down her neck and along her breasts, until it reached her waist, sticking to her completely. Body against body. She didn't reject the contact. I could feel her breathing.
—And in these months haven't you wanted to have sex? By the way, Mr. sounds good. Address me that way.
She nodded.
—There are days when yes, Mr.
I decided I wanted to see her entirely, see how Irene's secret places were. I rubbed my lips against Irene's before separating from her.
—Undress, I want to see you entirely —I said with the roughest voice of my life— But do it slowly, I want to enjoy it.
Accompanying my words, I put on slow music and sat down on the sofa.
Irene understood immediately what she wanted from me and started moving slowly to the rhythm of the music. First, she took off her blouse, leaving her insinuating black bra in the air. With a gesture, I told her to start taking off her pants and shoes. In no time, she had taken off both and left on view a thong matching the bra.
For several minutes, Irene enjoyed dancing and finally brought her hands behind her back. To take off her bra, but with a gesture, I stopped her and signaled my knees.
With the sexiest walk I'd ever seen and biting her lip, Irene approached me and sat down on my knees. One of her hands was on my chest, while the other hand slowly descended towards my pants, with a clear objective. At that moment, I decided to try those lips that had been calling me for a while, pulled her towards me and kissed her like I'd never kissed anyone before. She returned the kiss with the same passion as mine.
After several minutes, our mouths parted, gasping. I took off my shirt and her hand playing with the hairs on my chest, while her other
my cock was already out in the open. Bigger than ever. With a quick movement I took off her bra and observed with delight the two small but firm breasts that appeared. Her nipples, small and erect stood up defiantly. My right hand started playing with her nipples alternately, while the other made circles on her back. I started biting and kissing her neck, which added to my attention to her little tits made the first moan appear. I moved my hand from her back and slid it inside her thong, caressing her wet pussy. Not long after my slave started moving her hips in time with the rhythm of my hand, searching for pleasure. At that moment I decided to cum on my new acquisition. --Penetrate--I said into her ear--Slowly. And look at me. With a small movement she placed her cave just above my cock. She slowly rubbed her pussy over my penis, seeking to lubricate it a bit. Finally, looking at me fixedly and biting her lower lip, she lowered herself slowly. Impaling herself very slowly, just as I had asked. When she was fully impaled, she moaned softly and leaned her forehead on my chest. Not long after starting to move, we were moving at the same slow pace as when she first impaled herself. The slow movement together with the tightness of her cave was taking me to heaven. I lifted her head again to kiss her. This time our kisses were shorter than the first one we shared. Little by little we let ourselves be carried away by the moment: Irene started moving faster and I started moving violently underneath her. For a few minutes the penetration increased in rhythm until it became a collision of two wild animals searching for pleasure. After a few more minutes, I noticed I was reaching my limit. --I'm going to cum--I warned her. Since there was no protection on, I expected the girl to stop riding me so I could cum with my hand or, if lucky, with her mouth. But she didn't. She kept riding me with even more violence than before, until irremediablely I came inside her with a scream. Note that emptying myself in her interior caused a devastating orgasm in Irene, which ended up disheveled on top of me.
We stayed like that, gathering strength for almost ten minutes. After that little while, despite each fiber of my being begging me to stay in that position under Irene, I forced myself to get up.
Get up, I said. We have to eat. But first, let's wash up a bit.
I guided her to the bathroom and we helped each other out. When we had dried off, I decided to try those lips one more time before dinner and pushed her against the bathroom wall.
Despite her initial surprise, she quickly responded and during five minutes, we kissed desperately. Again, despite my body demanding otherwise. I separated myself to prepare dinner.
I can cook, Irene said with a certain pride. I'm good at it. What do you like? I can make anything, sir.
I thought for a moment.
Order a pizza. We've had enough of our new situation. It would be better to relax. You have the number in the fridge, I went to the living room, wrote my mobile number and gave it to her. They'll ask you for it when ordering pizzas.
She nodded and headed to the kitchen, about a minute later, I heard her again.
What do I order?
My chicken barbecue. Order whatever you like, I said.
Whatever my lord likes me to like, she replied.
Barbecue? She made a small imperceptible gesture of disgust almost. I smiled.
Barbecue will be it.
Despite having made it clear that she didn't like it, she didn't put up any fuss and in less than two minutes, she had ordered the pizzas.
For the rest of the night, we didn't do anything sexual, except kissing occasionally. We ate watching TV and I accompanied her to her room. When saying goodbye, she asked me:
Would you like me to wake someone up now and in some special way?
At six thirty, I said, and at that moment, something clicked. Special way? She blushed. I didn't understand how one could blush after... Riding the couch. —Well... you know. Kissing or with a blow job. I smiled alone just imagining the second one. —A good morning kiss after waking up is fine with me. She smiled. —Fine I stayed looking at her for a few seconds— Do you want anything else, sir? —A goodnight kiss. Irene smiled again and came closer to give me another kiss. When we separated, both of us were panting. I said goodbye to her and went to bed. Thinking about how well I was going to have it from now on.
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