I couldn't believe the electricity of it. I couldn'tbelieve that being tickled could be such a turn on. She ran her long,pretty finger nails up and do...n my torso, in my armpits, over all of mysensitive parts. Pretty soon my body was out of my control, pullingviolently at the bonds without success. Susan stopped with some concernon her face and asked if it was too much. I moaned through heavybreaths that no, it wasn't too much (as evidenced by the fact that mycock was rock hard despite not being. She's still naked; her pink nipples are pointing straight out from her small, white mounds and her face is flush."What's going on, Nicole?" I ask. A second ago she was going to zap me with the transmitter and make me forget all about ... Wait! We're in Uncle Harry's bedroom and my cock is throbbing like crazy; it's harder than I've ever seen it. The veins are popping out and the head is so dark it's almost purple."I was afraid that if I made you forget about the transmitter, you'd forget about. “Have a chair,” he told her, which Roxie did in a folding chair along side a desk, and he sat in an office chair on the other side.“Can I have my say now?” Roxie demanded.“No,” he replied and went into a desk drawer and pulled out a form.He started writing something on the form. Roxie read the name tag over the pocket on his uniform blouse: M. Thibodeau. He had sergeant’s stripes on his khaki sleeves.“Name?” he grunted at last.“Roxanne Pringle,” Roxie sighed.“Age?”She told him. He went through. Except maybe for the last two. When I was younger, those two had lined up with each other almost perfectly—but the wrong way! I’d been married to the one exception to that alignment at the beginning of my academic career—back when I was a young Ph.D. Married briefly. Disastrously. Oh, we’d been deeply in love with each other—before that marriage, and during it. And, sad to say—indeed, almost too sad for words—after it. That we loved each other had made our breakup exquisitely painful for us.