He didn't seem to notice, though: he leaned over me with a truly ghastly leer on his face, and said, "Well. We have ways of making you talk." Oh—Oh ...eally?" I said, feigning sudden terror."Ye-eessss," he said. "There's always torture." T-torture?" I asked."Mm-hmm. And I just happen to have my... Special torture tool here with me right now." Really?" I asked. "What sort of tool?" It's a specialized... Poking device." Poking device?" Yes," he said. "For poking. For poking long and hard. Long and. My hands trembled as I began to towel him off as I apologized. My heart was pounding as I moved my hand to his crotch. He tried to stop me, saying it’s not necessary and to stop, but I couldn’t. I had to touch his cock or at least try. As if in slow motion, my hand brushed his crotch. I let my fingers part and feel for his manhood through the thin paper towel. Time stood still when my finger tips felt the outline of his hanging dick through his pants. I just stared straight ahead, on my knees,. More

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