It was a tattoo shop, and Boris sitting next to her saw her expression."You look nervous dear. Is something wrong?" he asked her as he unbuckled his s...eat belt on the passenger's side."Where ... where are we going?" she sounded really scared."What does it look like slave? We are going in the tattoo shop," and he started to smile at her ... wickedly."Why ... why are we going there ... Master?" she asked him."You are going to get a tattoo," he moved closer to her inside the car."Please don't. I'm pulling down my underwear, just a little...yeah...look at all that fur. Look at that cock fur. You ever seen cock fur as thick as mine? I guess not. You know what else bitch? I've got hair on my balls, too. You wanna know why my balls have fuzz on them, huh faggot? Coz I'm a real man...a real man with muscles, a hard cock and big hairy balls. Wanna know why I've got big balls? They're full of cum. When I cum my cream is gonna shoot from deep inside my balls, up my hard shaft and right into. " I discovered from her diaries years later that a few weeks after this she had had a chat with a friend, Vivienne, at the tea shop in the village. Vivienne had asked her if she ever had a sexual relationship after my father's death - in those days nothing like as common an occurrence as it would be now. When my mother said No, she had never even considered such a thing, Vivienne asked if there was a film star or suchlike who took her fancy. "If you must know I wouldn't mind an affair with my. Just want to read and do my laundry without some asshole who just wants to screw me making stupid conversation in a misguided attempt to get laid." Jake flicked his smoke away and smiled at her. "Fuck you, bitch!" He walked back inside, leaving her spluttering outside. She came back in, back stiff with anger. She ignored him for the next hour. Jake was seething. Some people were just rude for no reason. So what if he wanted to fuck her? Maybe if women would wear something that didn't display.