A metal push bell, the type you smacked with your palm to make it ring, resting before me.I smacked it.A chime resounded through the air. My futa-dick...pulsed and throbbed. I put on a hungry smile, eager to seduce the concierge into giving up Rosemary's room. I just had to dangle my futa-cock before the concierge and she would—A man walked out of the back room, a smile crossing his dusky features. “Can I help you, miss?” he asked, his accent cultured and British, the refined tones of someone. A couple of weeks went by and I nearly forgot about it. Coming home from school mom said Mrs Scott asked if you could go over and help her. Going over I tried to hide my excitement. As her door opened I was greeted with a smile. Mrs Scott had a tight fitting sweater that showed off her figure and a knee length skirt. Come in dear, she said. As she lead me to where she wanted to change some bulbs, I couldn't help myself. I stared at her ass as we went to the back hall. There was an old fashioned. More

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