So there I was in Belgium, on a sunday morning. I parked the car a few blocks from where he lived. With a very strange feeling in my stomach (nerves? ...ove?) I walked to his house. I rang the door bell and he opened the door. There was no way back now! Jurgen was a gentle goodlooking guy, friendly and clearly quite nervous too. As it was a very hot day he was dressed in his shorts and a t-shirt. He looked very attractive. So, now we finally meet, he said. Shall we talk a little first? So we sat. Now he was yelling at me in front of these fucking guys. They of course thought it was funny. "I am sorry Master Dickie, Sir." I cried out, terrified he may use this as an excuse to go get that fucking stun gun. "I was just trying to do a good job of cleaning your cock, Sir."tears were rolling down my cheeks again. "Has It been urinal trained yet, Dickie?" one of the suits asked. "No, not yet. This is It's first dick cleaning. The fucking thing can't even get that right." he answered. "Well as. More

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