She pulled my ear up next to her lips and whispered, “I want your tongue inside me right now, you sweet man, if you do a good job, I will reward you...with my juicy ass served up for your pleasure.”The next half hour was a blur of carnal excess.I remember her taste and the way she sprayed my face with her stored-up passion. Eventually, she pushed my lips back to her mysterious crack and the hidden brown eye waiting for my devoted attention. It was something I seldom did even with the most. "I turned to finally look at his face. Oh my God. My stalker was Joseph Pierre, the famous star of the New York Ballet. Why is he here with me? What could he want with me?I was so overwhelmed, tears trickled and then flowed down my face. "Please, please don't cry. I am so sorry. I didn't mean to make you cry. I didn't mean for any of this to happen.” He wiped tears from my cheek. “‘I’ve been watching you dance for so long, day after day. You are so beautiful when you dance. You glide through. "Tell me about her." There's not much to tell," I said. "Until Monday, we never even spoke to each other. Now I've talked to her twice." You don't remember what about?" Jordan asked."Monday was about nothing really, just me commenting on her working with Dumont," I said. "But today ... Today she was different somehow." I looked at Jordan. "Do you remember the spark between me and Robyn at the bank on Monday?"Jordan nodded. "You said you felt her emotions."I nodded. "It happened again with. I had inadvertently told I have one of these machines.The guy above me smiled even wider and moved his crotch even closer. He just assumed I was flirting with him.“Can you make yourself cum with this machine,” he askedNow he was the one changing the language of the question on purpose. I smiled at his cock.“Yes, you can make yourself cum with this machine,” I answered, defying his invitation. He looked stunned until I finished my sentence, “or at least I can.”His cock physically twitched in.