They don’t want to read the story, they want me to tell them the story. It’s not the same, when they read the story, I guess, maybe ’cause most ...olks ’round here don’t read so good and/or don’t like to read. Besides, I left out some of the good parts, when I wrote it. Writin’ doesn’t come as nat’ral to me as talkin’. I reck’n, in the way that I get excited, when I’m tellin’ the story, talkin’ with my hands and with all my facial expressions adding to the story, my excitement doesn’t show. What was visible were my firm hard nipples standing at attention on top of two very tight reddened tits! Around my neck I could also feel something like a collar. My wrists and ankles also felt as if they had cuffs on them. In other circumstances I would have been quite alarmed, except that Bill had told me he would never harm me and believed him. Slowly the lights began to brighten and Bill stepped into the room. He came up next to me where I could see him. "Well, my little fuck toy, cum. I tried not to let my sexual desires get to me, but I couldn't help it. About 10 minutes after going home I grabbed Kristen's hand and led her upstairs to my bedroom.We had done it before up there, but for some reason, I new that tonight... tonight... something special was going to happen. I had sexual experience and so did she, but I never managed to last long enough to make her cum. But something special was going to happen.I gently laid Kristen down on my bed. I slowly began to lift her. You pick a water bottle from the first fridge, then dig around in a drawer for a spoon, open a cabinet and break out a jar of peanut butter. For a company with a sizeable staff you find it odd you haven’t seen anyone else in the kitchen — although you are eating at an odd hour and it seems everyone else works odd hours too. It’s a fluid work place, you will see people eventually you tell yourself. You pull up a chair at the table in the kitchen and scoop a sizeable amount of peanut butter and.