Secured to the chair, you are helpless. There’s nothing you can do to coerce me today, despite your obvious power. Although you’re enjoying my min...strations, the tension you exude tells me that you're still not sure this situation is to your liking. I reach out and cup your gonads and gently massage them. They're heavy with spunk. I ask if you've been saving it up in anticipation of today and you nod, curtly. I grin mischievously, watching your mouth tighten before I simultaneously grip your. " He smiled and said "Good. I'm Mark Goodman." I smiled back and said "I'm Marissa." "Would you like me to show you around London Ms. Marissa?" I totally blushed at that. "Sure." I said giggling. "You can call me Marissa." He took my hand and kissed it gently. Then he looked in my eyes and said "Of course."We went everywhere that day. He took me to Harrods, to lunch at a small restaurant, and on a boat on some lake. On the boat we were talking. He was 20 years old, and was single. I told him. I was at the crossroads where my brain was at odds with my physical being, my brain being disciplined with the rules and the laws of men, and my body, maturing into the pleasurable edifice of men, that thin sliver of ages, that induce the most sexual pleasure most men crave, fine wisps of hair, referred to as 'bum fluff', a soft downy atop my pubis, like the colour attracting bees, my pubis containing the delicate folds of moistened flesh, a virgin path to be trodden by man's cock, a primeval. As she stood by one of the open windows in the high rise apartment overseeing the sea, staring off into the distance, watching the clouds drift lazily in the sky dyed red by the setting Sun beyond the horizon. She was so enraptured with the beauty of the scenery and absorbed in her own thoughts that she failed to notice my return from work.I quietly stood by the door to her room observing her (still dressed in her school uniform) for a while. Given that I had not seen her since young, it was.