” and “Mrs.” About thirty-five years old and dashing, dressed in a white shirt and neatly pressed slacks Mr. sits there, hands resting on the a...ms of the chair, calmly looking as if he owns the place, exuding confidence. Mrs. is impeccably groomed, every hair of her blonde bob haircut neatly in place, her make up perfectly applied to her smooth, beautiful, skin. She has on a beautiful black dress that reveals her taut stomach through a cutout and a short, slim skirt that barely covered her. " But what should I do?" Jack looked like he was about to cry again."I'd go shopping for a bra if I were you," said Helen."I can't go bra shopping. I can just imagine. 'Hello, miss. I'm here to try on bras.'" Jack shuddered with revulsion as he played out the scene in his mind. "I can't go out in public ever again much less shop for a bra. I might as well kill myself here and now."Helen knew Jack well enough to know he wasn't suicidal, but she realized he was going to have difficulties. It was now as plain as a pikestaff that he and the headmaster were colluding to see that there was always a good Friday afternoon attendance, so that the headmaster could satisfy his sadistic bent to the full. All this was made even more flagrantly obvious, when I learned that Mr. Simmons was always present in the headmaster’s study when the Friday beatings took place: they were a pair of sadist who enjoyed punishing the boys with the cane.” “For a while, in spite of a large photo dossier. "She doesn't go that far." "Well, perhaps we'll fix that for you." Art felt weird now. He wasn't sure if the guy had a stable of women or if his wife would or...then it hit him that the guy was coming on to him, but he'd made no moves, just small talk. He felt his balls stir and let his mind picture a great blow job, cumming in a mouth, something he had never experienced. "That would be different," he quipped as the car stopped at a high dollar condo. He followed the guy inside to an immaculate.