He probably didn't even know what he really wanted at that point anyway, so there was no reason to let him speak. The contract he'd signed three month... beforehand had made it clear what we both could and could not do, and it was all I needed.He'd told me what he wanted the other week, when he wasn't aroused. That's how I knew he meant it. He said how he'd never seen any of his hour-long BDSM videos all the way through. He always ended up wanking, only a few minutes into one. He has no self. He has broad shoulders and muscled arms that are barely contained in his slate grey jacket. Underneath the jacket he's wearing a blue button down dress shirt with the hint of great pecs and wash board abs. To complete the look he's wearing slightly baggy faded blue jeans and black polished leather shoes. He smiles, extends his hand, and shouts, "Hi! I'm Michael." I smile back and shake his hand and shout, "Hi Michael. I'm Isabelle." "Nice to meet you. Do you come here often?" He yells. "First. More

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