My raging hard-on was sticking out the top of the pouch on the G-string. She walked into the bedroom a few minutes later wearing a red satin camisole,...garter, nylons and black patent leather pumps. She came over to the edge of the bed where I was sitting, grabbed my balls through the pouch, and told me to open my mouth. She then stuffed my mouth with a couple pairs of her panties and tied a scarf around my head to form a gag. She bound my wrists behind my back and tied my ankles together to. When things had calmed down Jon had another good (close) look at Hannah's body. Hannah didn't look as nervous but said, "Can someone untie me please." Not yet" Jon said, and he touched her pussy. She moaned a bit and shuddered. "Want a real cock in you do you?" She didn't say anything so Jon touched her pussy again. This time it was a long touch and a finger went inside her. After gasping Hannah said, "Yes, yes, please, please fuck me." Jon was never one for missing an opportunity and he did. How art thou,” the deep-brown woman with a cool, silver undertone asked.“Good. And you?”“I’m well,” she replied with perfect diction. “You all have it looking lovely in here.”“Thanks! We try!”“Well, we appreciate it!”“Great sweater by the way,” he chuckled.“Yeah,” she rolled her eyes. “Ugly sweater day is my favorite day of the year.”Dr. Kenya Morris switched away. She thought of how incredibly handsome the blue-collar motherfucker was. She was on her way to grab lunch with one of the school’s. Kat became my muse.She was the voice in the back of my head, the person I spoke to when it was quiet, and I was alone.Her email address became my diary.I know it sounds a little sad, but she was my best friend. The first person I’d turn to if I needed advice and the only one I’d share my inner thoughts and feeling with.Sometimes I felt like a twenty-eight-year-old with a fucking imaginary friend.Don’t get me wrong though, she was a friend.She wrote back.Not as much as I wrote her, and she never.