we are, me sug on your fingers like a child with a
lollypop and Steve looking on in fasation. Then he blinks and, after an
unreadable gla you, plops down ba his seat.
You twist my head around by using the fingers in my mouth until I am
looking into your eyes. You grin as you see the silent tears in mine.
Then you lean down to my ear. "Don' t give me any of that teary-eyed shit,"
you whisper harshly. "I know you like to be shown off like this, like the
depraved little slut that you are. I know that deep down, you _want_ them
all to know what you are. You want the whole world to know what you are. A
slutboy. A fucktoy for men to use and abuse as they want. Otherwise your
little boyclit wouldn' t be so hard as it surely is now, would it?"
Nothing about me is hidden from you. You know things about me that even I
have never known before, and by knowing, you are able to trol me
pletely, treating me like nothing more than your sex puppet. I stiffle a
sob, but a drop of tear runs down my left cheek.
You take your fingers away then and shove your hand one last time into my
pants. You stab the fingers into my open, twitg hole, twisting them
around hard to get all the remaining juices in my ass. Then you pull your
hand out and, instead of shoving your fingers in my mouth, you spread your
hand and smear the ass-juice all over my face. I smell and taste the
pu aroma of my boyt, and in despair realise that I will have to
spend the rest of the day with my face smelling of my ass. How many other
people in the office will also know it by the day' s end?
"There you go," you pat me on the back. "Now go back to your desk. Go on,
get the hell out my sight, boy!" As you say the last sentence, you pull me
up by one arm and propel me away from you. It is all I do to grab at
the front and bay pants to make s