broiling. My email quest, seeking reassurance that my sabbatical will end before my testicles burn out, will not be sent until I offer oral gratification to pixie Chrissie, Miss Beth made that quite clear.I must suck his... her... p***s!
Adding to the emotional quagmire is the hormonal build up. It’s the fifth day of my five day cycle, if I have been counting correctly. And with the massive daily infusions of the concoction, I am randy, fidgeting, fighting my bonds. Before departing, Miss Beth provided a clue as to my scheduled discharge, forcing into me three tumblers of water. So there is physical need for bladder relief as well... Miss Beth preferring a ‘piss proud’ p***s at milking time.
So though eager for Miss Beth’s tendance... to be bled of my male essence in donor Bob’s terms...
