Not yet burnt out on this, thought Seifert. He smiled to himself; she would do quite well."What can I do you for, sir?" she said with a voice betrayin... her Irish roots. The brogue wasn't heavy. Instead, it lent a charming lilt to her voice. "I can do you a lot if you will let me." That depends young lady." Seifert reached into his suit coat and pulled out a stack of pound notes. "Are you free for the evening?"She stared at the money. "Evening?" The whole evening. Until the morning at least. I. After a few minutes of writhing and panting, she reached behind her back and took Honest Johnson in her hand. I heard a faint gasp – I guess the feel of it against her back had not been enough for her to comprehend just how big it really was. She gave it a few small, slow strokes, while I went as still as a rock, not sure what was happening, not sure how to stop it, and not sure if I wanted to. Less than a minute later I felt her start to pull Honest Johnson around her ass cheek and, lifting. More

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