Some men prefer dolls.

Curt’s hand stroked Marilyn’s thigh, and, as I bowed, I noticed a long leather strap bound Curt’s wrist to Marilyn’s ankle. She wore black stockings which made her long legs appear alive and winsome, as shapely and arousing as any escort we had ever served. I straightened up abruptly, meeting Curt eye-to-eye. “Don’t be shy, boy. I won’t bite you! It’s o…

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