Hewas her master. Alana was pretty sure he'd tried to have her killed,the one behind those rogue guards who made an attempt on her life.Didn't matter,... he was her master.How could she be feeling these strange, womanly sensations? Why did thethought of him stir her newly formed loins so deeply? How could shepossibly desire another man's touch?Not just any man. He was her master, and it was only natural for apretty slave girl to desire her owner.Alana knelt before her Master.Jafar stared in. I felt comfortable. Plus she would be leaving in a few hours. Part of me really thought that we would kiss, talk, laugh. That other part of me knew exactly what would happen. These two parts of me are often at odds. The latter almost always wins. We got to my apartment and I showed her around. We sat on my couch and she was shy and blushing and silent. This, of course, forced me to not be shy. Sometimes I get into this mood were I am aggressive and kind of sarcastic and mocking. Teasing a girl. It was always strange getting together with my mom. Though we had always gotten along like gangbusters, we could not be more different in so many ways. My mom was kind of the kind of woman you see at vegan restaurants, fair trade coffee shops, and new age stores. Though too young for the actual 60’s revolution, she was very much the ex-hippie. She would wear the peasant skirt and blouse combination, and even at 46 she could still pull it off. My mom’s body was just like a woman in her 40’s. Grabbing Kay by the waist with his free hand, Garrett gracefully helped her up to her knees, the whole time keeping his finger securely buried inside the older woman until she was kneeling up on all fours in front of him. Pulling his finger free with a loud plop, Garrett quickly swung the head of his dick to the puckered and greased opening. With one last dash of lubricant over it's vieny length, Garrett lurched slowly forward until every muscle and tendon in Kay's body tensed in anticipation..