The real problem was being a compulsive masturbator. That meant seeing a lovely girl would drive me crazy and one way or another I’d have to spunk w...th my eyes on Her, even if that meant wetting my underpants in the canteen at work, or pressing up outside Her office as I watched Her through the window. It meant going everywhere in my rainmac with holes in the pockets, and whenever I could, in my wank-trousers, which were baggy, absorbent material to soak up the cum and holes in the pockets for. "What's your name, Robin, isn't it?" Simon grunted as he walked towards her and roughly pulled her ponytail, tilting her head back. Robin opened her mouth to speak and Simon put his hand over it. "Stop," he said, "I'm not really interested. I shall just call you, girl. I do not want to hear a word from you, unless you decide to leave, in which case, feel free to tell me to stop at any time." As he said this, he pulled the band from her hair and stood back as her blonde locks fell to her. More

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