.. " "Yes Sir. That would be so good..." I cried desperately.He placed his hand over mine again and made me squeeze that huge hard dick more tightly. ...hen he held my arm against my back and suddenly trust his dick into my hand.My heart was pounding fast now. "Tell me you want my sperm in your soft hand, little bitch”."Yes Sir. I want you to cum. I want to make you cum..."“Put your finger in my mouth. Let me taste you, little bitch." Then I did as I was told. My fingers were wet and he could. I reached over and grabbed a washcloth and got it wet and started running it over my body. I lifted up first one leg and then the other, slowly scrubbing away the stress of the day. Then I concentrated on my arms and shoulders enjoying how the roughness felt against my smooth skin. I then ran the cloth down over my breasts, moving the cloth in circles around their fullness, ending with the nipples which were hard as rocks by this time. I eased the washcloth down my stomach, running over it. There was nothing special about our chats, or the topics we discussed though she always seemed to be able to bring me around to her way of thinking. One night our relationship dramatically changed direction. On this night I logged in, saw she and a few other friends were in the room, so I said individual hellos to each of them. The others responded but she did not. I didn’t think much of this and figured she was in a private chat. I engaged in some general conversation in the room, and after a. He hung there, wondering which verdict he feared more.Almost in a whisper, she said, "It's true. I heard you speaking our mother tongue, but your mouth..."After a while, he reached out for her. She clutched him close. Somehow even her embrace carried a message - What are we going to do?He hugged her close, but he knew his own response was involuntarily transmitted - I don't know.Three weeks later, he'd met Jesse, the contortionist. It hadn't been simply a matter of luck - he'd been putting out.