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"Shall we begin?"She stood up and led me to a room behind her office. It looked like a smallclothing boutique, with a couple of racks of clothing, a burgundy red velvetsofa and a changing area, walled off by a burgundy red velvet curtain."We need to start somewhere, I suppose," she said. "Try on this shirt,please." Are you sure this is a men's shirt?" I asked, fingering the suspiciouslysoft material."A men's shirt is a shirt worn by a man, sir," she said. "It'll be a men'sshirt when you put it on."Obediently, I took it and went to the changing room."I don't know about this shirt," I said. "The sleeves are really narrow,aren't they? Aren't men's shirts supposed to have wider sleeves." Traditionally, men's shirts sleeves are indeed wider than ladies', toaccommodate for the extra muscle," she said, "But in your case, as you willcertainly agree, there's not much to accommodate for, is it?"Blushing, I turned my head down."Sir?" she said. "I asked you a question." No, sorry," I stammered.. Boundless ass, fruitful loins, insatiable snatch, the usual- ah, an offer of marriage. Signed cousin Sammuel. A good lay- fifteen years ago. I would hardly call that experience with my insatiable snatch. Rachel’s wet fingertips tickled my asshole. “Not this morning darling, I’m saving it for later.” I flicked my letters against Rachel’s head, just a lump in my pile of skirts. She mumbled her ascent into my pussy and returned her hand to my cunt. The next letter was a summons to Father’s morning council: the false council, he should say, as it was just the facade he put up to disguise his evening meetings with the Priestess and I. Most real decisions were made there, with Father’s cock in someone’s ass. The last invited me to afternoon tea and a seat with House Tirut’s Ladies during the tournament. I’d already accepted the same invitation from the Southern House Shy; a shame, for the sisters Diana and Margrete were wonderful hostesses. Their obsession with other identical twins made.
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