1. Trust


    Date: 7/17/2015, Categories: BDSM, Shemales, Author: klammer, Rating: 100, Source: xHamster

    the Committee were gifted with a bit more brain. She was serious. Not a game. Confused, I hesitated, trying to decide who to listen to -- I was leaning toward Tough Guy, because, I mean, obviously she wanted a *real* man, right? Right? -- when she bucked again and Tough Guy wilted. With the rest of me. Excruciating, overwhelming, painful pain. She'd gotten a knee free, and I collapsed in agony around my abused member, sobbing. She scrambled away. I ignored her. Not too difficult. I was ignoring most things. Priorities, you know. She was speaking, I realized through a haze, and leant her half an ear. &#034... *what* you were thinking of. *I* thought you were ready to extend our relationship here, to your last bastion. I even,&#034 pause for something. A sob, maybe? &#034I even brought your things, and when you served *pizza!* Oh, god!&#034 Yes, that was a sob. The pain was subsiding. I spared her an eye as well. She was crying! Pulling her clothes into order, and grabbing her overnight case. She'd lost a shoe in the struggle. &#034Well, whatever you planned, I'm *not* interested! God!&#034 She grabbed some tissue, daubed at her eyes, blew her nose. I choked off the a****l noises I was making, and started trying to uncurl. The body wasn't cooperative. She looked at me. &#034Good,&#034 she said, heaving a sigh. &#034You're all right, then. I thought I'd hurt you.&#034 I tried to laugh at that -- it tickled me -- but ended up groaning instead. She waited until I looked at her ...
    again. &#034Lee,&#034 she said. &#034Don't come to my house. I'll call you, when I decide what to do about this.&#034 When *she* decided? *She* wasn't the one with severely bruised genitalia! My speech apparatus was not, though, in working order. She left. Conclusions I did not have a happy week. As the joke goes, &#034She doesn't call, she doesn't write!&#034 Sunday I drank the rest of the bottle of wine, a half- bottle of vodka that had been in my freezer forever, and then went out and got some beer. I drank myself insensible. Nothing Sunday. Or Monday. Tuesday I considered calling, but put it off. Wednesday I did call, but she didn't answer. I began to be convinced that instead of managing a brilliant coup, the Committee had, once again, landed me in the soup. Thursday I even called her at work, but when Jimmy the Freak answered, I just hung up. Called back again, and got one of the women, but she refused to pass me on to Nancy. She didn't pick up her phone that evening, either. I even drove over to her apartment, but lost my nerve. I had a key. But she had specifically told me not to come over. And, I guess, I was a little afraid that the key wouldn't fit. Friday afternoon ended things. I called her office again. Got a runaround. Called back. Got Jimmy the Freak. And heard myself say, &#034Would you tell her that my s****r Ginny is in town and wants to speak to her?&#034 Held my breath. &#034Ginny?&#034 Thank the gods! Her voice. Like angels singing. &#034It's me,&#034 I ...
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