I picked up the basket from her room and one by one separating darks and whites taking great care of each article of clothing. I felt weak holding her...panties, and bras. Against her orders I couldn’t help myself from sniffing them and kissing them. I felt my hand reaching down my underwear. When I realized what I was doing I slapped my balls, and felt a sharp pain. I feel on my knees in pain against the washing machine. I did as my mistress had though me to do whenever I felt urges. In a few. They can see my eyes are wide and popping, and my mouth is hanging open like the gormless tosser I am. Miss Michelle holds the paper tray and Her arms squeeze Her bosoms. Like I’ve seen in mags many times, and which usually is enough to make me spunk my pants. It’s at times like these – very rare though they are – that I literally forget where I am, as I’m totally mesmerised by the girlie-goddess who’s showing Her loveliness in my full view. As a compulsive masturbator and girl-worshipper I. More

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