A man, in other words,who wears women's clothing--a cross dresser or transvestite--would bemuch more likely to keep such a secret than a woman would b...e.The closet is not an accidental prop. Magritte could have easily drapedhis nightgown over the back of a chair or across a bed as to havedisplayed it hanging in a closet or wardrobe. Therefore, the presence ofthe closet should be read as an important clue--and, perhaps, as the keyitself--to interpreting the meaning of these paintings. The. I was still a virgin girl then. I had lesbian relation ships but had never been with a man. Always I wondered that no one can be trusted cause in today’s world all men are just behind fucking and all the shit. I hated all that. Don’t know why but looking at my slave a typical mharashtrian guy of about 21 years I felt something very nice for him. He had innocent looks and he loved to talk in very low tone. I like this guy too much and thought him as my friend. The day I saw him I couldn’t. Their hands were around each others' hips now, pulling, forcing, thrusting together, Brian's swollen member, still imprisoned by denim, driving its force against Kimmy's jeans-clad hips, grinding with desire. I wanted to join them, but felt I should wait until invited. Instead I let their dreamy demonstration take hold of my innermost instincts, setting them afire, engrossing me, mesmerizing me, kindling within me a fire that was no less than their own. My heart raced; my pussy moistened; my. Turning, I see two pillows pilled in the center of our bed.“Please, sir…”“Please what, kitten?”“Please just take me, sir. Please don’t spank me anymore.”Staring at me, his face finally softens.“I’m not going to spank you, love.”I breathe a sigh of relief, fighting with myself not to caress my burning bottom. He saunters over to me and grabs my ass possessively before plunging his skilled tongue into my mouth.“Oh this poor bottom of mine is so hot and sore, isn’t it sweetheart?”“Hmmmmm, yes.