Iassumed then that my measurements had been taken when I wasunconscious.The British woman handed me an identification card, and I read thename, "Rache... Gribble", which rested over the word, "Flight Attendant."The woman looked vaguely like me, but part of me refused to believe Ilooked like that, until the British woman brought out a mirror andplaced it on the counter. I carried the ID over to the mirror. Ihesitated before I picked it up to look at myself.I froze as I stared at my reflection. I. “But,” she went on. “It’s also sort of painful, isn’t it? The closer you get, the more you feel the need to let go. Oh! Wouldn’t it be great just to give in? Feel all that sticky cum force its way out from the depth of your balls – burst up through your bulging shaft. You’re so aroused, you’d probably shoot it several feet up into the air. You’d just love to feel that, wouldn’t you?”She masturbated him slowly, squeezing his cock hard.“Ah!” he gasped. “No! Not yet!”She laughed.“Of course not!”. More

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