Countless times my cockhad tried to get hard and countless times the rigid plastic of the cagefirmly squeezed against it, resulting in torturous denia.... I always knewthat I masturbated a lot, but it hadn't been until I physically couldn'ttouch my cock that I realised how frequently I thought about it.Which had brought my thoughts neatly onto the homework Miss Stevens hadlaid out for me. Thinking about what my cock meant to me. Thinking aboutwhat a cock symbolised. I'd be lying if I said I'd put. A few minutes later, a handsome gentleman with a rather athletic build walked up to the bar and ordered a drink. While he waited, he looked around and spotted a fairly secluded table in the back. It was a good spot, because he could see the entire room and both exits and keep his back to the wall. He was on his third drink when he saw her sitting at the far end of the bar, a beautiful redhead who was looking sad and, perhaps more importantly, well on her way to being drunk. He stopped the next. More

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