I knew it was a lie. Then out of nowhere, she asked me who I was thinking about when doing it?I was thinking about her, but how can I tell her that? I...told her I was not going to answer her questions for free. “If I tell you, I get to ask you one question in return.” She said okay. I gathered some courage and told her it was you who I was thinking about when I was masturbating.She hit me in my arm and said, “Wait! What?” I just told her I was thinking about her when I stroked my penis. Now it’s. The sound offers me a distraction and I seize upon it. As I place my hand on the radiator in an attempt at naive diagnosis, I can sense you smiling in the darkness, smiling at my confusion. ‘Come back here and make yourself useful. Chop chop!’ Your giggles draw me in and I sit by you at the edge of the bed. ‘A baby!’ I remonstrate, attempting to mimic the tone and words you use when you try to impose seriousness on our conversations, ‘That’s very impractical, don’t you think? Creating a. She told me about how she would change into a dressing gown in another room, and then walk into the room where the art class was waiting. They would have set up a chair or stool for her to sit on and when the class was ready she would be asked to take off her dressing gown and sit on the provided chair. She would then hold that pose for a while, before taking a break and then taking up another pose. V was never given any of the drawings so I never saw them. This got my mind working on how I. I wanted to scream to high heaven I was afraid of losing her. She was done, complete, a work of art for the ages. She could go anywhere, do anything, be with anyone she chose. My transition was barely begun, and months away from fruition – and Big Cock Brock was right there. I wanted to tell her all those things, but when she took me that way with her own big cock, my ... mind ... just ... went... blank.“Now we talk,” she purred contentedly. She lay spooned behind me, her arms around me, her.