"Well yeah." Susan smiled down the phone. Now she thought about it shehad always been the outgoing gregarious one. "But when the time comesfor god sa...kes promise me that you'll be honest." Why shouldn't I?" Ricky asked, wondering why she was banging on aboutthem, psychological profiling tests were part and parcel of employmentthese days."Rick, its me Susan. I know how uptight you are about sex, and theywon't beat about the bush about asking some pretty intimate questions?" Oh?" Ricky blushed.. ‘I’m sorry about earlier,’ he adds without a hint of stutter. ‘So tell me about this problem,’ I say, handing him his coke and sitting next to him on the couch. ‘Well,’ he says. ‘There’s not much to tell.’ He’s looking at the floor and almost mumbling. ‘I’m just a big zero with girls,’ he says. ‘When I meet someone I’m attracted to, my libido overreacts and all I can do is stand there stuttering, with an obvious bulge in my pants.’ He shrugs. ‘What do you do?’ I ask, seriously curious about his. At work she still called him 'Sir' whereas the others used his first name and in the house, he only called her slave when he wanted sex or wanted to insist on her obedience. For the first fortnight she pretended she was only responding to his orders but gradually she had to admit, even to herself, that she enjoyed what they did together. "I'm really his unmarried wife, his partner in today's parlance," She mused. "I suppose yesterday was typical of the routine we've gotten into. Get up, get. .. Let's use my club's rules," he said, taking a few steps towards her. The effect was awesome on the space between them. Hard, densely-packed abs hit her enormous, swollen breasts head on, lifting them up her chest and causing them to pancake like a slow-motion airbag impact. Valleys of breast-flesh oooozed over the man's chest, reaching almost all the way to his armpits as he stood so close to her, eyes burning down at her. "Imagine training where you're actually betting something against.