It made it kind of hard not to stutter while he was talking to Marlene. It got even more difficult when Chrissy fisted his engorged prick and started ...umping it. Ben struggled to concentrate on what his leading lady was saying."Somebody else to have lunch with?" he said. "Hmmm, let me see. There's Sonny Adams, the new stunt man. I think you'd like him a whole lot, Marlene, and I know he'd like you. Why don't you give him a call?"Marlene seemed delighted with the suggestion. She'd already. Of course, at this point I was telling myself that this part of me was journalistic instinct - the hunger for a good story.Underneath a thin satin blouse and a lacy bra, my perky chest was heaving considerably, and my nipples were pushing against the fabric quite visibly even through the layers of clothes. I had put considerable thought into my outfit. I wouldn't have had to. After all, I likely wouldn't be wearing them too long anyway. When I had applied for "enslavement" at the Institute, I. I knew he usually tried to do a complete jobwhen he dressed but this time I was in charge and I did it my way; first, Idid not put on a bra or any other sort of padding. He was a "skin head" sohe had a bunch of wigs. I picked out a long auburn one that was well pasthis shoulders. Except for having no shape what so ever, He did make apretty nice looking girl, not that he would win any beauty contests.When all dressed, and I was satisfied with the result, I made him put hiscar keys in a matching. The tiny movements were leaps to her, judging by the way her body writhed against his. “Something like this is how you make a real woman come, right Miss Hickman? Or are you faking it?” “Oh fuck! Fuck!” Her hips lurched and her eyes flew open, locking into his gaze. He slid his finger into her again. So hot, so wet. And God, so tight. His cock ached against his shorts, begging to take the place of his finger and plunge deep inside. “Tell me what you want, Miss Hickman.” “You. To call me.