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My hart was pumping as hell, but things went well. A few boys screamed at me but didn't follow me. My face must have been as red as my boots!Unlocking the safe I found the keys. My mistress also left an envelope and a plastic bag in the safe. In the bag a pair of nipple-clamps with a chain and a red curly wig which I new very well. In the envelope were the instructions, direct and simple: Put on your nipple-clamps, change your wig and WALK to my home. Your mistress ULLA.I felt desperate. Here I was. A familiar train station, looking feminine, but slutty and asking for attention. I had to look for a place I could place the clamps and change the wigs. With the little change I had left I went to a lady's toilet. A very strange look of the lady working there but she led me in. In the toilet I did what my mistress had ordered and I put the blond wig in the bag. The red wig was a lot worse. It showed my collar around my whole neck. I was not happy. After sort of running out of the toilet,. ‘Oh baby, I’m already there.’ A second finger joined the first. ‘I need you now’ she said on a choked breath. Megan moved off of him and threw her robe on the floor. Kevin rolled off the side of the bed. He stood, removing his boxers, and removed a condom from his pants, lying still on the floor. Sheathing his erection, Kevin Looked at Megan. She was kneeling on the bed. Kevin laced his fingers behind her neck and laid her down. Dragging his fingers along her neck then shoulders, he braced his weight on his elbows. He settled himself into the V of her body. Slowly, Kevin entered her. Megan’s breath left her body and she felt like she started to float. A slow building rhythm started to flow. He pressed soft, intimate kisses along her mouth and jaw. He brushed his lips against her lips. Megan’s small tongue darted out and flicked his lips. His motion stopped and his eyes glittered with lust. Kevin groaned in his throat and dropped a hard kiss on her mouth. His tongue pushing past her.
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She asked me to come in her apartment and help her with something. Two minutes later, we were sitting on her floor looking at the instructions for the bookshelf she had bought. I was wearing a T-shirt and athletic shorts—no underwear. Not the best outfit for assembling furniture, and definitely not something that can hide a boner. But I didn’t care if I got a boner at this point. At the worst, I’d be a little embarrassed. She was wearing workout clothes and said she had just come from the gym. She poured herself a big glass of wine then sat down on the floor next to me and joked about how hard the instructions were. We both laughed about it, but I look a more serious look at them and started to figure the thing out. “You look like you’re on a roll,” she got up. “If you don’t mind I’m going to go rinse off,” she said. “It’ll just be five minutes—not even washing my hair.” “No problem,” I said. And in an instant, I was alone in her living room, wondering what was going on. And it.

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