He admitted that he tried it and it made him hot enough to jack off again. I still didn't understand why and he said it kind of made him think of blow...jobs. I laughed and said that would make him the blower not the blowee! Lol, with cum in his mouth and whatnot. He said no, it's like it's still getting eaten so it's good or like it's going where it's supposed to so it's hot. It tastes good to, so who knows? And that's when I knew we were going to have some kind of gay sex.I was still a little. This place and these people were notreal--they only existed on a TV show, and a long since canceled one atthat. If my mind was telling me that I was in their world, talking tothem, then my mind had to be psychotic. Yet they seemed to me assubstantial and true as anyone I had ever met, and to my horror,another alarming thought soon forced itself into my consciousness: whatif they were real, after all, and my life as Michael Caldwell was thefantasy?I couldn't even begin to imagine what dreadful. When I finally came to my senses and began searching for a Master, I met many men online who said they were Masters, but ultimately, they were not. They were either just bossy, or lonely, or sadists. The few that were truly Masters, didn't seem to fit me. Then finally, one contacted me and I knew in an instant he was the one true Master I was born to serve. Unfortunately he lived far away in another country. Now, finally, after two years of chatting in text and video; after longing for. Not physically. But a bikini bottom could be thought of as a men's garment as well, though hers was most assuredly made for women.Leaving both coffee cups on the counter, she reached down and under and made sure her testicles were still tucked up inside her. They ached a little. The erection she now had didn't help matters. She took a breath and thought of something else; she thought of far away mountain tops, covered with snow; she thought of the desert and its heat; she thought about taxes..