She came back with a store-brand shirt with diagonal stripes in hot pink and gay-glow green, like she was suggesting a career as the official back-sta...e Blow-job Boy on the upcoming KISS tour.I held my ground, had a tantrum, held my tantrum. I made Mom buy me that goddamned shirt.And it worked. I kind of got forgotten. But that only worked for a year. Then I grew some. And it was gruesome. First day back to school after the summer sprout, so of course I wore my favorite shirt. For the last. “We haven’t done that in a while, just you and me.”“Yes; we can play. What did you want to do?”“I want to tie you up. Are you OK with that?”“Yes. I trust you. Anything you want. No limits.”She hugged me and kissed me.“Strip and get on the bed.”I removed my clothes and got into bed. Jennifer opened her drawer and took out the long cloth strips. She carefully bound my right wrist and tied me securely to the bed. She repeated the process with my left wrist and then my ankles. I couldn’t move at. “Oh? You’d do that for little old me?” I met her eye for just a second and gave her a serious look. “Yeah,” I said softly. “I’d do that.” I could almost see a slight chill ripple through her body. She gave me a weak smile as if to acknowledge that she knows I could do it. I’m a warrior. A man of action. A man with a body that’s in better shape than most of the suburban husbands in our neighborhood. Sure, in an “end of the world” scenario, I was the type of man that she would gravitate to for. Her clit was fat and prominent, just begging to be played with. Renata began to kiss along the inside of Sandras thigh as she rubbed her clit with her thumb. I moaned at the combination of excitement I had and the feeling of a twelve and fourteen year old sucking my cock. As Renata went to work on Sandra, Sandra already had her tongue buried deep into Jessicas pussy. The preteen was moaning already engrossed with an orgasm, her juices quickly pouring over the sides of Sandras mouth. I looked.