Governess Whore.
I came home around seven of the clock that fateful evening following a brisk canter around my estate. The sun was setting over the far horizon like a glowing orb on that warm spring evening. I handed the reins of my steed to my ostler and made my way indoors seeking my dinner. Cook was waddling around as was her her wont, her pendulous bosoms swaying and copious buttocks wobbling. My thoughts turned to a lonely evening. She sensed my mood. “Look I ent sucking your nob,” she insisted, “No offence but I be a cook not a blinkin’ ‘ore.” I hadn’t even thought of asking her. “Nor fucking me before you ask.” she ranted on, “I ent that old. I might still get caught.” “I’ll just have my dinner then if you please,” I …