”He glanced inside then stepped back. I indicated a patio table and pulled out a chair for him. “Sit. This won’t take long; then you can go back to what you were doing.”Reluctantly, he sat. “It’s your home, and I am your guest,” he said as he emptied what was left of his wine, the French accent reappearing.“Où en France As-tu grandi?” I suddenly asked him where in France he grew up. He stared at me. I let fly more French than I’d spoken in years. I looked it all up first to make sure I had it. She went to the floor to ceiling sliding glass windows that opened out to a large balcony that overlooked the vast blue-green ocean and sandy white beach. Taking a deep breath, she inhaled the fresh air as her stress began to slip away. She liked the image of herself spending the next six nights out on this balcony sipping strong fruity drinks in the calm breeze. After a full day of traveling, what would get her even more relaxed was an appointment with the world famous spa that the hotel. I recalled being bent lengthwise over a sawhorse, wrists and ankles tied to each of it's legs, the center piece of lumber digging into my chest and belly, my tits hanging down. Tight clamps on each nipple with a chain connecting them. Before clamping my tits, he had run the chain through the handle of a two gallon plastic bucket. The bucket hung several inches from the floor, my nipples stretched tight. Standing in front of me, he aimed his huge cock, and started releasing a long stream of piss. I jolt just a bit, and she acts as if nothing has happened. “Hmm,” I think to myself and say, “Excuse me for a second.” I get up to go to my desk, as I am missing one piece of information I need to discuss with her. As I am going to my desk I think I faintly hear her say, “Hmm, nice.” I turn around to her saying, “What?” “Hmm, what? I didn't hear anything,” she replies coyly. “Is she checking me out?” I wonder. I decide to play along and bend over slightly. Giving her a view of my ass,.
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