‘Mr Smith?’ I snapped out of my voyeurism, and looked around. A female assistant stood beside me, a small trolley at her side, loaded with goods. ...‘Sorry, miles away. Is this mine?’ ‘Yes, it is. I just need you to check and sign this…’ with these words she bent to take a clipboard off the trolley, her head level with my crotch. ‘Oh, my goodness!’ I looked down. I had been so engrossed in those blue knickers I’d started to harden, and the front of my trousers were tenting! The assistant grabbed. Well, pussy was meant to be a gift, not a bargaining chip. Her sex is something she gives to her man, not something she holds over his head to get what she wants. And men, because they think more with their cocks than with their brains sometimes, have went along with the idea," I explained."Whore, show our guest your pussy," I commanded. She lifted the front of her short skirt and spread her legs wide, revealing her bare pussy, already showing signs of wetness. I reached around her hip and. More

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