That could by why, on Monday morning at nine o’clock, I was dressed in a very short black maid’s uniform with a white apron on top. I wore a black wig circa nineties Cher, makeup, and red five-inch heels with fishnet stockings.
The previous Sunday afternoon when I’d returned to Lucius’ place, I’d pushed him up against the door and ravaged him. His shirt was torn from his body, lips made cherry red with kisses, and his n*****s plucked ‘til they were sore.
I’d turned him around, yanked down his pants, and jostled the butt plug he still wore, plunging it in and out to torture him as he had tortured me earlier. I pulled it out and kneeled in order to tongue his hole and taste him there. It was everything I’d ever dreamed of.
With saliva running down my chin, I sucked and f****d his channel
