Pipes over my head, leaked foul-smelling water that landed in drips on the cement floor. The metal roof was rusted, cobwebs clung to the beams and the...whole place smelled of must and mildew. Past the mound of my bulbous belly, I could see my black shoes sticking up. I tried to move my feet, but could not. I tried to move my hands and couldn’t. When I tried to move, I heard the rattling of chains. My wrists and ankles were shackled to the floor, but I could lift my head. I lifted my head. I wanted to fuck her. I wanted her mouth on my cock. I wanted a hand job. I came in my jeans.Miss Muller saw or felt what was coming, I guess, and she pressed the end of my cock fairly hard. Cum spurted out, long streams of it that I could feel seeping down the length of my cock. My cum left a wet spot on the front of my jeans.“Wow,” I said, just about the only thing I’d said since entering her apartment. “That was awesome.”“Well, for you, maybe, for me, not so much.” But she was smiling, her. More

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