She beamed radiantly at me. I did a quick scan of her. She was holding a plastic cup with one hand far enough away from her body to avoid spilling on ...t. I don't blame her. You wouldn't want to mar perfection. She wore a very tight tube top that accentuated her nice rack. Her stomach was firm, the skin flawless with the exception of the navel piercing she proudly sported. She had on a very tight, very short skirt.She reached up with her free hand to hug my neck. So I leaned a little to give her. I didn't even know his name. But then, that was the norm now. Men came to my house all the time and put their dicks in me without bothering to tell me their names. Not that I particularly cared what their names were. It's just that this is not the kind of person I am. Doing these things was difficult for me. It hurt, mentally and physically. The fact that I had no choice didn't help at all.When Mr. Jefferson came on the line I said, "Mr. Jefferson, this is Donna. I am not sure what time I will. More

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