How many Servicers were in the waiting room when your number was called?” I asked, gathering my genitals and rolled back over toward her. I didn’t...feel like checking the queue on the other side of my bed. “Only 2, Master, but it is still early. I’m sure more will arrive at THEIR times...”, she replied with a pout. She had a set amount of time with me, and I was wasting some of it, while I was asking about the next girls in line. Not cool, as people from your era would say. She knew she was. Her defined waist flared into generous hips that flowed down into a tantalisingly primitive bush of dark, glistening hair. The man seemed a little older, more experienced? His physical preparation was the same as the woman’s except that it was men rubbing oil all over him with hands that were rougher, more demanding than the womens’. They moulded his biceps and dark, hairy chest hungrily, dipped down over his stomach, tracing the sculpted muscles, pulled with what was clearly pleasure-pain on. More

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