The newly emerging artist in Tracy was different. It was almost as if the minute she picked up a paint brush, she became committed to telling the trut..., with her art and with her heart. “Hey friend, come on in,” Tracy said as she opened the door widely to greet Karen on her next scheduled visit. This time, rather than her hands and clothes being covered in paint, she was wearing a teal colored blouse and jeans that would be what she’d wear on a casual date with a man. She watched for Karen’s. "Yes! Oh yes! please!" she cried."Then tell me - are you my slut? Are you my slave-slut?" I said, probing her pussy as I waited for her answer."Yes! Oh Yes! I am your slave, your slutty slave! Oh, Master! Please! Please fuck your slave slut!" she was almost beside herself. I had never seen her so turned on, so absolutely consumed as she was at that moment. It was like I was in bed with an entirely different person! My girl was hot, don't get me wrong. She could show her passionate side easily. More

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