" says the stylist. She returns and explains that she will cut my wife's hair out the back. I ask why as no one else is in the salon. "Your wife is in...her underwear! Sir" she exclaims " Sandra is most er … embarrassed." She is not my wife, she is my slut" I state walking to the back of the salon."Mrs Jones go to the front with the stylist to get your hair styled."I look at the dishevelled young brunette kneeling on the floor, the buttons on her blouse undone, her cotton panties around one. Her lips were somehow both softer and more demanding than anyone I'd ever been with, woman or man. The feeling of her large breasts pushing against mine, her fingers curled in my hair, was almost more than I could take.Her whisper was thick and husky as she at last pulled her lips away from mine and whispered in my ear."I'm going to touch you. And then I'm going to feed you."Her teeth nipped my earlobe as her free hand effortlessly eased the hem of my skirt up above the tops of my stockings. I. More

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