I started role-playing more. I'd think of differentpeople and different situations. Alone, in my apartment I can be naked with them. I can show them mybody. They can see how graceful and lithe I am. They can see me tossback my hair, how my boobs flop when I bend over, they see that slitbetween my ass, how I can touch my toes now. There was that photographer. She was very good at her job. She was5'3 or so, shorter than me, with jet black hair, and beautiful pale,clear skin. She had tattoos, two that I could see at least. She hadbright blue eyes. We'd chatted a few times around the coffeestation. During a gathering of the crew, I saw her at the other sideof the room, looking at me. When I thought how it would be with her, if she were here, now, in myapartment, I thought how much I wanted her to see me masturbate. Ilied down on the bed sideways, looking at myself in the big wallmirror, and I watched how she'd watch me hold my breasts. She'd seehow one had flopped onto the. ” He felt immense relief at her words. “Thank you, Kate.” She nodded, watching him expectantly. “Oh.” Brett flushed as he fumbled with his belt. He pushed his pants down, swallowing hard as Kate deftly removed the cage, covering it with a sheaf of papers. As Kate freed him from the device, the soft touch of her hand had him stiffening almost at once. She laughed. “Don't even think about stroking yourself. Think about baseball, or whatever it takes to tuck that thing back into your pants. Or panties, rather.” With a reproachful look she let herself out. Sure enough, it didn't take long for his nascent erection to wilt. He adjusted himself with a sigh and went to work. … And so it went for the rest of the week. He'd wear the cage all night and into the office the next morning, where Kate would remove it until it was time to leave. Then she would lock him up for another orgasm-free night. Until Thursday. That morning, Brett woke feeling serene and well-rested. He stretched, noticing the.
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