Zak shut the water off, wrapped his town around himself and turned around. “So I see you do want some,” as he glanced down at my boner. I smiled, ... little embarrassed, and he started to walk out of the shower. Zak turned around and said, “Well?” “Well what,” I asked. “Well, you are looking really, really hot right now, and I’m fucking horny as hell,” Zak responded. As soon as the first word left his mouth, I left my shower and followed him. There was an empty janitor’s closet in the locker room. “I’m going to make you my white owned bitch…White…Owned…Bitch…do you understand me, Michelle?” he whispered in her ear between grunts. It was calm, assertive in tone, and it activated something in her brain. More juices dripped out of her cunt as another orgasm rocketed from the words. Three simple words created one of the best orgasms ever experienced. Better than anything her black husband ever gave her which was zero.“Yes, Massa. I’m your white owned bitch. I’ll do anything you say, just. ?" I said, sighing and turning to him with my legs crossed. I was familiar with the game. You each have a certain amount of time to do something sexy to try and turn on the other- full contact, if they get turned on they declare they are nervous and you win. The person who is trying to make them nervous is called the master and the other is called the bitch. The bitch cant touch the master.Who ever takes the longest to say it wins a prize. I grinned, my eyes never leaving his. "You first." We. How did a 42 year old get to this state of paranoia? It is fairly easy I guess when you make a couple of choices when you are young and they blossom for the productive part of your life and then overnight, things disappear in a maelstrom of things that are not of your doing. Then you are retired not by your choice and are not employable by dictate. Every month a check is deposited in your bank account and a note arrives in the mail to remind you to keep your nose clean. At least, that is what.