Clear Camsoda Chat Cahse - Because they end up at his place safely.

Except the nice guy who picked me up.Still facing the bright morning light and the possibility of being found by the lovely Bambi in town.I quietly put them in the trunk and put the expensive stereo far away from where I live.And if you were watching carefully, you might have noticed that I don't wear underwear.At least not in the front.That's because if I ever did get in a car accident, the black corset would have to be the sole cause of death.An expensive four-piece, made of great care and hue, would have to be the uniform.So I walk, balancing the cash register over my knee, trying not to fall. Not that I have much to worry about anyway.I have run a five-minute mile in less than five hours.I literally have to stop everything and put on a pair of running tights. A pair of black tights, running and lined with colorful, tiny, mesh. A strapless top, past her back.And a bright, summer's day, orange or white, depending on which newspaper you were reading.A congress jacket, open at the neck and sleeves. A button front, with an elaborate silver buckle. A long, loose skirt, held up by delicate, almost velvet, stockings.And a slip beneath the skirt, cut high on the thigh, barely covering the top of her feet.And when you first see me, you see a gorgeous sight.A girl, maybe sixteen or eighteen, almost naked, running down the streets of Soho. A pair of black leggings, interrupted by her long, slightly wavy, dark hair.A slightly crooked smile, less pronounced at the corners.A deeply sexy face, flushed with embarrassment at her state.One that I recognize perfectly because of the way she looks.An implacable set of lips, covered with a thin, lustrous red lipstick. A mouth full of strong red lips, made even sturdier by the red lipstick.

A perfect picture, I think, for a man looking for a playmate.One who will always look the gift that you give on demand, who will always yield to no matter how ridiculous the demand, no matter how pure the wants. A woman in a red bandanna, her hair falling loose over her shoulders, her red lipstick smeared over her cheeks, covering her lips, she looks like an imp who wants to give herself an alabaster face, without a care in the world.And boy, did I ever put on that outfit for her. Black patent leather crotchless panties, with a plunging neckline, and black bell gilding.Red stockings topped with red heels, and a black velvet glove, that barely extends beneath the hand that massages it. Just the right amount, I think, for her tastes.A short black skirt with frills, short enough to let her and belt her hair down, and yet still long enough to let you and mistress know what she is wearing underneath.Vinyl stockings, with tiny little silver rings, at each knee, encircling her hips, slowly winding down her legs, back up over her armpits, pressing into her crotch until you can see the contentment in her well-shaped butt that sends chills over the skin.And then, of course, you will take her into your arms, and hold her tenderly and lovingly, longingly. You will be amazed at the depth and sensitivity of your caucasian woman's pussy. You will feel the shivers of lust that will make your knees weak in the kneespring. You will choke back your own shuddering moans until you can talk in such terms, and to such ends, you will depend on me.Eventually, you will agree to come, cuddle in my arms, and stay with me.

You will read, think and rave about it all day. At the end of the work week, you will leave and go to your parents' house, get cleaned up, get dressed and come back over the weekend to spend a few hours with me. Of course, I could ask her to do things at work that she does not normally associate with a man, especially since she is your mistress all week. However, she is strictly under my control during the work week, and it is your fault that you accept her hints and suggestions, while working. The majority of the time she is under your direction, although she will often protest if you refuse to work a certain task or for some other reason. You know she is sincere in her desires, and there is nothing unusual here. Work is something she dreads. Periodic trips to the shops and office, with the promise of a very nice reward if she behaves herself, in the company of her fellow workers..