The only thing I could think of was hot it would be to do it, to lean over his desk and let him ram me right there. He moved behind me and then his ha...ds were on my hips. I shuddered at his touch, and a moan escaped me."This is wrong," I said, but I didn't try to stop him as he guided me towards his desk."Then why does it feel so right?" he asked in my ear.I was dripping wet. I needed that big dick, needed to feel it filling my ass. It wasn't a matter of right and wrong any more, the all that. This may not seem much of a problem, but when you combine it with a deep seated insecurity that makes me sure that they’ll never be interested in loving me back, it produces quite a few problems. The first is an unwillingness, or rather an inability, to express my feelings. The first time I fell in love was when I was fourteen. It was with a girl who used to go to the school across the road from mine. But I couldn’t even bring myself to talk to her let alone ask her out. We used to get the same. Did he know? She watched his hands as he cupped his cigarette and quickly lit it. She swallowed hard again. Such nice, strong hands. And now, after all these nights of waiting and watching, his hands were close enough to touch her. She heard the rain start before she felt it. Large drops falling quickly, and then his hand pressed her back, urging her under the building's awning and out of the rain. She didn't have time to process the danger she may have gotten herself into. Then he was in front. That stubby had a brand on its side. It belonged to somebody. Or to something." What kinda brand? You sure it wasn't an old scar?" Positive, Charley. It was too sharp and regular to be accidental. It had to be a brand." So? Where does that get us?" Steve asked acidly."What it means to me, is that somewhere on this planet is a higher level of civilization than KeeBar's people. I don't know how much higher, but that brand was clear and sharp. Stamped, not just drawn on crudely by hand. If they.