Today Sir Dick Dickens came to my Shanghai office to negotiate cooperation. He was a tall older gentleman full of British pride, the empire where the ...sun never set. I looked him in the eyes and said: 'I visited London one winter. The grey, wet and cold weather was so miserable.' Miss Yamaha, in a revealing western style long dress, interpreted for me. 'Well you see, General Tanaka, I don't live in London, at least not when it's cold and wet. I've been working many many winters in warm weather,. Whenever she walks up the stairs and I trail behind her I can see all of her parts, the long glistening hair of her pussy, and the tight thighs that seem to go on forever. We talk for a moments and she puts her hand on my chest just to make contact, but I know she wants me, I start to massage her feet because I know this is a turn-on to her, she leans back in the chair and exposes her camel toe (pussy) to me and it's so inviting.... She asks "r u ok" because she knows I'm so horny, and I want. “Did you like it?” Her eyebrow went up, and a smirk painted itself on her soft, glossy, inviting lips. I almost cursed. She had broken through another wall in me, released another part of me that could not be reined back in. “Yes,” I admitted meekly, turning onto my back, “I did.” “Good.” “I’m afraid, though.” I bit my lip. “I’m afraid someone in the audience might know me.” “Oh, poor teacher,” she soothed mockingly, getting up from her chair and crouching down next to me. Her hand caressed my. There was no remaining muskiness, nor salty tang to remind one of her long labors. The perfume of mom’s scented body-wash was just detectable if my nose sniffed in her gossamer locks. But her liberal lust juices had only a faint hint of the flavor of femininity. Other gals that I had gleefully licked and lashed with my tongue were more strongly sweet/pungent in a pleasant way. Mother’s lubricant was just as slippery but light as in a virgin olive oil, though clear colored and certainly not.