I wash my hands in the bathroom sink; I see my reflection in there. I am wearing make up and I?m in a flowered dress. These are clothes men were never...free to wear. But this is not a precious thing in my life, clothes are just a tool to preserve decency and keep you warm. I also see my lovely red hair cascading down my pretty face, my dress fitting against my body, shaped in subtle ways by my hips and bust. They are an impressive set of hips and bust too, but no matter how lovely they are on. ‘Come,’ He answered moving under the bedclothes to hide his embarrassingly stiff cock. He was most surprised to see Sarah Tomlinson, the housemaid enter his room. Sarah was just twenty, a fine buxom wench, with nice trim thighs and shapely rump to match. Indeed Richard had often admired her, when she bent to place logs on the fire, or just doing her work around the house. On many occasions he had felt a stirring in his breeches. The sight of her bending showing ample cleavage, or the roundness. More

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