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I retrieved my bag that had some clean running clothes in it and returned to the master shower. I turned on the water, steaming hot, stripped, opened the glass door and stepped in. I thought at the time it was a nice shower, but I know now it was a typical tract house cubical. I was thankful for the opportunity to jack off, as my cock had been rock hard since Mrs. B’s dress rode up, exposing her lovely thighs when she got in the car. I was just soaping up my dick to get some relief when I was startled by the opening of the shower door. Mrs. B. stepped into the shower, naked, holding a plastic cup. She handed me the cup.

“I didn't always look like this,” she continued, caressing her hand slowly down my thigh, making me shudder, and then gasp as she reached between my legs, taking my too-hard dick in her hand and gently starting to stroke. “Would it help if I gave you some context? I want you to remember me, Brian, that's the whole point! Would it help if I told you how many times I sucked this dick?” She suddenly squeezed my shaft in her hand, making me gasp. “How many times I swallowed your cum? At least twice a week for an entire year, Brian! Would you remember me then?”

Their images faded from the mirrors, and Strauss stepped into his study.“Well?” he was asked.Strauss bowed his head and crossed his chest with his arm. “Everything is proceeding according to your plan, Mistress.”