Tish
- 3 years ago
- 19
- 0
Hi Tish 4 free porn video
© Copyright 2013, by Leslie P. Lowe. All rights reserved.
[email protected]
Synopsis: A gal named Tish succinctly answers a cry for help from a
sister t-girl in extremis.
Hi Tish FM 4
by Leslie Lowe
Hi Tish,
I married a madame. We met in a nail salon, where I got my nails done
every week. I know, this was odd for a man, but I'd found that friends
appreciated my careful grooming.
My wife's name was Kimberly. That day we met she asked me which of two
OPI colors she should get for her toes, "You're A Pisa Work" or "I'm Not
Really A Waitress." I told her definitely the latter, since winter was
coming on and it would go with her richer colors. "You're so right!" she
said, and gave me her email, [email protected] and her
cellphone number.
That very afternoon, I sent her a text and an email saying how much I
enjoyed meeting her, and she wrote back with a free massage coupon. That
was her profession, full-body massage, "For pleasure, not for health," is
the way she put it. I know, I know; you're thinking how can anyone be so
naive, but I just was, okay?
So I got my massage, and it was divine, just two problems. First, I was
so much more aroused than usual that it was all I could do not to explode
into the modesty shield Kimberly had thoughtfully used to hide my tiny
equipment, not my strongest feature as a man. Second, it was funny that
there were no women getting massages, which is not at all the way it was
for massage therapists I've been to. I've always thought a massage was a
very important part of one's self-care program, so I've had at least one
a month for years from a certified massage therapist. Kimberly stopped
that.
Because despite these issues, I booked another session with Kimberly in
two weeks, and soon I was her captive client. At the end of my third
session, she asked me to wear some sexy underwear. "What do you mean?" I
asked innocently. "Oh, don't be so coy, boy!" she said, "I'll lend you
these," whereupon she reached under her skirt and pulled her panties down
and stepped out of them. They lay there on the floor like a bouquet,
tiny bikinis, white with black polka-dots and elastic at the waist and
legs, the silky cotton fabric all covered with pretty multi-colored
flowers in pinks and other pastels. "Well, my little friend," she said
in a not-to-be-disobeyed voice, "pick them up and put them in your
pocket. You'd better have them on when you arrive for your next
appointment!"
I thought she was kidding, but I said to myself, "I'll show her!" And
getting ready that day two weeks later was fun, because Kimberly's
panties felt so sexy on. They were nice and fresh after I washed them.
I had sniffed them several times after I got home and found them to be
rather pungent, and had been afraid someone might think I was on my
period--just kidding!
Within a month, Kimberly and I had settled down into a wonderful
friendship. We had coffee and ate out at least once a week. We got our
nails done together. She gave me my now-weekly massages, and began to
train me to massage myself, because I had developed leg cramps from all
my exercise and eating a high-fat-low-carb diet, which she promoted for
me, "To improve your figure." Sometimes she would ask me to massage her
or one of the other girls who worked for her. If a gay guy came in, she
would ask me to do his massage, but I always declined, because I never
was comfortable with touching another man. My Kimberly was about to
change that.
She began to introduce me to everyone as her boyfriend, and I was
flattered, because--How did I forget to mention it?--Kimberly was one of
the most beautiful women I've ever known up close. She was ten years
older than me, but still incredibly beautiful at thirty-seven, tall and
imperious like Heidi Klum, and just as pretty. She had arms like a
lumberjack, a female lumberjack, long and slender but very muscular. Her
long fingers with short painted nails really turned me on, but I didn't
tell her that, because I was afraid I'd scare her away if I tried to get
sexual with this goddess, this living Greek statue. Except she was
Swedish, with all the blonde that goes with it, except the dumb jokes,
because she was as smart as any Cornell professor.
Smarter than yours truly, because she soon had me eating out of her hand,
doing whatever she told me to do. And I just loved it. It was all a
game to me. But not to Kimberly. First, she married me. Second, she
feminized me. Third, she made me one of her massage girls. Fourth, she
got me incarcerated for pandering and prostitution. And I was so
innocent!
But I digress. My question, Tish, is: Should I open my own massage
parlor here in prison? What do you think? All the other cons are just
begging me to do it, especially my husband, who just loves what I do for
him. No, I don't feel unfaithful to Kimberly, because she divorced me.
And she never visits, although she sometimes sends a care package full of
condoms and lube, which I appreciate so much!
Yours truly,
Penitent
Hi Penny,
I think that's an excellent idea. You didn't say whether you were going
to charge or not, but what's it matter, really? The important thing is
that you serve your fellow man. There's a thing called karma that you
might have heard of? It's like a bank account, and when you build up
your balance with good deeds, you can earn more interest, especially from
your friends there in the big house, or whatever you call it. And every
time they give you a deposit, your balance goes up, and I do mean that
both literally and metaphorically, sweetie.
Hugs,
Tish
© Copyright 2013, by Leslie P. Lowe. All rights reserved.
[email protected]
Miracle
- 10.10.2020
- 11
- 0
