Soft Box
Mrs Parslow was good with the clovers, she always seemed to find the fleshy part of my bosom. ‘That’s the key to wearing them,’ she offered, sliding a silver clamp onto my distended areola, ‘Otherwise, they can get quite uncomfortable.’ Quite uncomfortable? Really? I’d have gone with fucking agonising, personally. Mrs Parslow’s take was a bit like describing childbirth as a subtle ache that briefly lingers. But she’d had three kids, so I guessed her nipples were probably as numb as an Eskimo's...
Threesomes