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With the premature loss of our dad, Clint had to step up to take charge of every woman, especially our mother drowning in grief. “Mr. Armstrong,” Lee said, “your wife is with one of our skilled masseuses. Your wife's a regular, you know.” “I.. I...” Mr. Armstrong said. Lee led the way. I fetish smiled as we passed Room 3 Bondage on our way to Room 4. I BDSM glanced at the door, hearing the faint moans coming from the room as Mrs. Armstrong enjoyed herself. I smiled as we went into Room 4. It was set up differently than normal. We had a large TV in here hooked up to a computer. There was a security camera feed. We had added a anal single spycam to Room 3, something just for today. We didn't normally record our clients. We wanted them to have privacy. On the screen was Mrs. Armstrong climbing onto the massage table. Carmelita was lying on her back, her Golden-Brown skin contrasting with the married woman's paler skin. Mr. Armstrong groaned as he watched his wife lick her lips and lean her head down. “Mmm, yes, yes,” moaned Carmelita, her round breasts jiggling. She had a landing strip leading to her shaved pussy. “Get down to there and exercise that tongue. You were dildo so mean to us. After all the pleasure I gave you, you tried to destroy us.” “I'm sorry,” said Mrs. Armstrong. I orgasm. S’gonna be a anal BDSM looong night, Kelly thought as she squeezed a little plush ball she’d found. Her Mistress, and younger sister, Juana stood nearby. Zoe had always joked about starting a petition against Game of Thrones called ‘Jerkins not merkins’. First it was just wearing the dresses, bras, and panties, then I took to shaving my legs and underarms. “That’s okay. Kissing her slim neck again, I let my thumb slide part way up the slope of her petite breast and back. I pushed the robe off of her shoulders, and she let it fall from her arms, removing the one from my thigh. Her top half was barely covered by anything dildo but a small tight sports bra. I don’t know fetish what Bondage to do.