We would say hello to Mrs. Johnson and to Mr. Johnson, and Mrs. Johnson would smile and wave hello and bend down to Mr. Johnson and tell him who we we...e. Mr. Johnson was unable to respond. Nor could he move his legs or his arms or his neck. He slumped limply in his wheelchair, wearing striped pajamas and a brown bathrobe, his eyes ogling blindly ahead, a thin drool forever flowing down one side of his slack, expressionless face. Mr. Johnson had been blown almost to pieces on Taiwan. Even at my. When he did, i was like a littleboy waiting for Santa Claus -- happy, excited, and afraid that Santa wouldnot bring me any gifts.Not just my cock ached as i walked to his home; my stomach ached too. Itached because this was not a game that i played. i was not Sir's boy becausei wanted to be disciplined and humiliated. i was his boy because i loved himit was the only way I could have any part of him -- his conditions, myacceptance. i had any interest in being submissive to a Dominant man.. More

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