She circled her fingers round it and just the feel of her cool hand on my cock was sheer joy.As she rubbed her hand up the length of it I had to exert...every ounce of control I had to stop myself shooting on her first rub.I again glanced swiftly round to make sure we were still unobserved and as my glance came round to her I realised I didn't even know her name. Not wanting to spoil the moment by saying anything I instead reached out to grab my drink from the table. My hand was trembling. He moved back into his seat and began to slowly massage my cock, occasionally reaching into my pants to cup my balls. He kept it up for about thirty or forty minutes, alternating between fondling my knob, feeling my swollen balls, and gently massaging my shaft. He was making me harder and harder, but didn't set up the rhythmic stroking that by now I desperately wanted so as to give me relief. He leaned close again, telling me he was going out to the toilets, and that I was to follow him once. She did as good a job as she’s ever done holding back her ever mounting sexual excitement, but again I put her at peak arousal. Usually, I would continue massaging her until she vomited again. However, when she put forth a monumental effort in stemming the growing tide of arousal and nausea, as she was doing tonight, I would reward her. Sensing the upwelling of sickness within her, I squirted another liberal amount of oil in my hand and gently massaged her vulva. Immediately, her nausea. Still indecisive, I stammered, "I-I-I don't know." Cocksucker, I don't play games," he said, "you're here to suck cock, my big black cock to be specific...no more, no less. So stop feigning any pathetic resistance. You're a cocksucker. I knew it the minute you walked into the official's room." How?" I asked, the blanket statement so generic."It was in your eyes," he explained. "Plus, if you weren't a cocksucker deep down you would have freaked out, not stared at my cock like a wanton slut." I.