In the weeks that follow, I am well-used. Some men just want to get in and get off, but others want more, and I oblige. A couple are married and experience shame after they’re done. I find myself trying to assure them that it’s okay to need more than a woman can provide. For this they are grateful, though they still skulk away.
One night, the marshal, a fine-looking man, big and gruff, comes over to me. I’m thinking he’s going to bust me, but instead he takes me upstairs and spends an hour just playing around with me. Lying naked, he’s content to lick me all over, to suck here and there. He runs his fingers through my hair and I run mine through the hair on his chest. His d**k is hard but he doesn’t seem pressed to use it, which I find rare, as most men’s d***s run them. Not so the marsha
