I heard a knowing mumble and the hands got a lot more intense.I was filled with cum from my Trainer Brad and fell asleep on Drake’s massage table dr...pping wet with sweat and cum and the room was hot and I was drenched in hot sweat.My cock was dripping and hard as I was facedown on the table. I felt a light tracing of fingertips along my legs and the pressure and repeated strokes became much more pronounced and deliberate. Drake had the magic touch with just enough strength to deliver muscle. In it was a long questionnaire about my sexual fantasies, what I wanted to do and have done to me, what my ideal partner would look and be like. It went on page after page of questions about my non-sexual likes and dislikes. This was going to be a complete psychological portrait of me. I was concerned about what the information would do to me if it ever saw the light of day. I checked out fantasy theater on line. The internet revealed nothing. No mention at all. I wondered if it was worth the. Despite the tightness of Jordan’s new panties, he’s pitching a tent.“As if,” he replies, tugging at his clothes and staring at the ground. “I can’t go out like this.”“But of course you can. A little shame keeps you alert. Off you go! I shall see you at the welcome ceremony.”“What will the others think of me?”“That you’re just like them. Now, go!”Jordan seeks to collect his clothes, but I click my tongue once again.“Those stay with me. Everyone here is the same. No privileges.”His sigh speaks. We reached the subway entrance, and I saw that the stairway was heavily coated with snow. "Wait a minute," I cautioned. "Let me get in front of you." With one hand on my shoulder and the other on the rail, he carefully followed me down the stairs into the nearly deserted northbound station. "You have a token?" I asked. He grinned. "Yeah. Just get me to the turnstile." I led him to the turnstile and reluctantly let go of his arm, then watched him walk toward the platform. "Thanks," he called.
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He ran to the shelves and began to look at the spines of the books. Many were in a language he didn't recognize, a writing with looping, curling scrip
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