I’ve put them off with blow-jobs, which I hate, hate, hate.” “Why me?” I asked, my voice cracking. She laughed. “You’ve got a cock, don’... you?” I nodded. “But I don’t know anything. I’ve never done it. I’ve hardly even touched a girl.” I ached, arched something awful and feared I’d come in my shorts. She sighed. “Oh,” she said, scratching her head. “OK. I didn’t think of that. Google it and then go down and buy some rubbers, some condoms, thin ones, hear? We’ll do it Saturday when the folks go. When Marsha had me almost ready to climax, she stopped and Andrea started. I have no idea how long it took but she was meticulous in her work. I watched in horror as hair by hair I was given my slave mark. Eventually I lay back not daring to look and then finally she stopped. I looked down and felt the flush of embarrassment flood me as I saw my mark. It was a small patch of hair over my swollen sex. Andrea was now trimming it close to my skin and Marsha leaned in to feel it. ‘A lovely job. More

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