The Master strode up to her now. He stood 6'3, with cropped raven-black hair not much longer than a buzz cut. His eyes were grayish-blue, his physique...rippling with muscle. He wore slacks and a red buttoned-down shirt, the bottom of which was no longer tucked in. He had taken off his belt and his shoes as well. But instead of exuding relaxation and a sense of being content to be home, there was disappointment. Anger. "Where were you, bitch?" Please forgive this slave," Kitana said meekly. She. She was older, a "mature" lady, with very large natural breasts. When I wrote her to see if she owned any boots she responded that she didn’t but had been considering getting some. This led to a rather extensive email exchange of getting acquainted, and we also chatted quite a bit on google during the day and evening. During this time, we began planning a shopping trip to Woodfield Mall (near where she lived) to find her some boots, my treat of course. At one point during our conversations she. More

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