Climbed down the ladder, grabbed my shorts from the work bench and before I could slip them on, they let themselves in and said "don't get dressed on ...ur account!," laughing and smiling and pulling at the shorts in my hands that I was using to cover my cock, that had grown hard as a rock. C'mon, let's see what you've got! they said smiling.I let up on my grip of my shorts, allowing them to pull them away, exposing my genitals in plain view as I stood there, not knowing what to do. It's one. Gone was Christian’s twisted definition of a relationship. His whips no longer striped my bottom. Nor did his leather cuffs shackle my arms and legs to meet his capricious whims. At least that is what I told myself. However, I did miss one element of our play, the feel and the smell of fine leather. Something about the leather ignited my senses, steamed my sex and dampened my panties. While jack was away from the office in the Orient I had used my smarts to tamper on line the invoices for the. More

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