It would spill out of me, coating his desirable cock and spilling out on to the white sheets of his bed, tangled around us in the aftermath of his str...ng fucking. At night, I would even dream about him. In my dreams, I didn't call him Master like I did whenever I was with him. I would call him by his real name, at least I think it was his real name. I would dream about him kissing me tenderly, like he did anyways, but his cock would be moving slowly inside of me, cherishing the moment as we. The girls would sometimes come out of the rooms in a disheveled state, uniform torn and some more skin exposed than they went in with. When asked, the girls said that the customer was drunk. On those occasions, it was said that the damaged uniforms had to be paid for and the girl involved must be compensated for her ordeal. Failure to do that would ban the customer from the massage parlor in the future. The managers insisted that no form of prostitution would be allowed. Although some girls. More

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