I would leave my hand on her thighs when watching TV, press the flesh around her shoulders in the context of giving her a stress buster massage, call ...er for a selfie and then have my hand on her hips or sometimes even lightly grab her hips, saying “Let’s pose.”And in between all this, I managed to brush my hands over her boobs multiple times, and once even pressed my thumb on her lower boob, while helping her with the dishes in the kitchen. She loved me so much. She could never think any of. Mendoza. “Sir, I’m getting tired from talking. If you don’t mind, will you please tell the two ladies what I see coming in the next ten years while I rest?”He nodded and started talking. I sat back against the headboard, took a couple sips of water, closed my eyes, and listened. I had to give it to him; he had a good memory, repeating almost verbatim what I had told him.When he was done, I said, “What I told Mr. Mendoza will happen. There is no doubt in my mind. We have eight years or less to. Now, I am not saying that America is not a racist place. I have being followed around the mall by suspicious clerks simply because of my skin tone, and I have also encountered teachers who simply did not believe that Black male students could be as good as anyone else. You should have seen the looks on some of their faces when I won one academic award after another. I surprised a lot of people. I am a Black man who does not play any sports, nor do I listen to rap music. No, I am not. Wendy looks ashamed. Wendy looks pleased with herself. Her head bobs, the clock ticks. Tick, tick, tick… Time in ever shorter supply.I look down. It seems a shame to have to untie her. She’s perfect like this, with legs and arms tied, the only part of her able to move doing so against my cock. Her lips squeeze me. Has she thought to suck and keep sucking until I cum? Until I shoot a load of semen into her mouth?I’ll never know. Time passes. Tick, tick, tick… The supply of time runs out. I.