Y...you are?” I recognized her from a couple of required liberal arts classes, always admired her, never talked to her. “Samantha Dickens.” She ...eld out her hand and I stood up to shake. My breathing was rapid and shallow. I fought for control. Samantha didn’t seem to notice, much to my relief. I stood there looking at her. She sat at my table, on the bench seat running along the wall. “Sit down, Jerry,” she told me. Unable to trust myself to speak, I obeyed. Samantha, tall and slender, with. To be controlled. To be captured. She looks wild as she moves above me, and I can't hold on to it much longer. My hand keeps stroking, faster, rhythmically, tugging at my cock, trying to make it happen. I am getting tired, and I am afraid of the noise I might be making. The others around me, I am afraid to wake them. Afraid one might come walking through the door. Afraid they'll see me like this. My hand quickens its pace. I feel it happening, the tightening of my muscles, the contractions,. More

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