Late at night, thoughts of sex consumed me. Lying there, naked in my bed, my hands would run up and down my body, imagining it was the hands of an exp...rienced older man. My cock hard and throbbing, leaking a stream of clear, sticky pre cum, I would gently touch my tight asshole, wishing it was him caressing me. I would fantasize about having him suck me, his masculine nude body pressed against me. How I wondered what it would be like to touch his cock. To feel it’s weight and girth, to stroke. "Turn over, mother," he ordered, and although it took him saying it twice for her to fully comprehend once she did she quickly rolled over and spread her legs as far apart as she could. He positioned himself over her, looking down at here as she whimpered beneath."Look at me, mother," he said softly and she opened her eyes. What he saw surprised him. Instead of the disgust, or maybe hate he expected he saw adoration and need."Who owns you, mother?" he said, again placing his cock at the. My therapy sessions were all about my story telling, lying semi nude on his leather divan, and masturbating as he watched me, no doubt, secretly filming me, and having my orgasm as my story built slowly to its climax.He was also masturbating, his thing apparently getting off watching and listening to a girl do her own thing. Girls travelling on their own can be a dangerous thing, but somehow, boarding a bus at the main station, and taking the overnight non-stop just did not seem to big a deal.I. "Yes", I said after a moment. "No doubt an audience feels the same way when you're on stage."She blushed a little at my compliment. "That's very kind of you. Oh!" My hand had slipped down to give her buttocks a friendly pat."You don't mind?", I asked. One finger circled the base of her spine."Oh, not at all", she assured me. "That would be silly, wouldn't it?" Some people might not think so. They might say you were being treated like a toy - a living doll. Raise your arms above your head. What.