She looked longingly at me and said, “I wish my duckies were as big as yours and my bush so fine.” “You are perfect as you are my darling,” I ...eplied. “Perhaps,” she said, “But if the King were here now methinks he would prefer to fuck you in favour of me.” “But I am just a humble servant girl and not worthy of royal attention,” I said meekly. She looked at me with those beautiful brown eyes and said, “Well you will be getting it from me very soon,” and then she grasped my hand and pulled me on. Sally fussed with her floral dress, arranging, then, rearranging the folds as they fell over her knees. She fidgeted constantly, showing her agitation in jerky, incessant movements. Her dress hung off the shoulder with a fashionably low neck line, a copy of early sixties fashion with large flowers in red and pink printed on the voluminous material. Had she been slightly well endowed with breasts, it might have been revealing, fetching even, but on her, looked rather too much for her spare. More

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