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"My eyes involuntarily glanced at it. In front of me, my son's prick re-inflated. Quickly or slowly, I could not tell. My sense of time was lost to me... The first thing I realized was, I was still leaning over. My son looked as content as a monk before the Buddha."Bring it back, quickly, Mom." He reached for his hard-on.I fled, spilling one or two tissues behind me. When I returned, he had thrown a dozen more wads onto the carpet."You should pick those up, the ones you dropped, I mean."I kneeled. You sure you have never done this before because you are really good.” I knew it was wrong, but it gave me a little thrill of pleasure to know that he was enjoying this, like the satisfaction of a job well done. He still had his hand on the back of my head and started to add a little pressure on the down stroke, trying to get his eight inches into my throat. I gagged a little but tried to relax and open my throat. It took some work, but after a few minutes, his bushy pubes were smashed into my. Stella the receptionist was not her usual self and appeared to be extremely flustered. Usually a very calm and organised person, this morning she was nearly in tears. She was one of Jack’s favourite colleagues and he felt he needed to help her if possible. ‘Hi Stella, bad weekend?’ Jack asked. ‘Oh, Jack it’s not the weekend it’s Mr Green, he is in a foul mood and shouted at me because the mail was not in when he came in this morning.’ ‘So when did it come in?’ he queried eyeing a pile of mail. I had read it more than once, ignoring the fact that the protagonist was male and envisioning myself in his place, seeing myself kneel at the beautiful woman’s feet. “Yes, I know it.” My voice was scratchy. “She can only be…” she prompted me, quoting the narrator’s words, self-assured and a little condescending, switching the roles we played in class. My lips moved without words for a second, but I finally managed to find my voice and continued, albeit shakily. “...his slave, or his despot,” I.
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