It’s not like she was asking me to parade around the street in a dress. --- “You’re getting a hard on,” Lucy chuckled, running her fingernai... up and down my pantied cock. The blue pair were made of the same stretch-cotton as her white ones that had hugged tightly at my butt and caressed my cock and balls. The sensation of her fingernail made my bulge swell quickly. I blushed. “No I’m not,” I lied stupidly. “It’s okay to enjoy it,” she responded, “There’s nothing wrong with feeling girly.” . If I can't handle taking 'suicide'calls how can I handle being a 'paramedic', to use my analogy?Well, basically what stops me taking the calls is my fear of answeringanother 'Peter'. It's the fear of the unknown. I can still function as aSamaritan, befriend, talk to, but mainly listen to potential suicides.It's the picking up of the phone that I can't do. So I make the tea,wait for the difficult cases to roll in and help out where I can. Youknow the sort of thing. Filing paper, writing reports,. More

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