" My master took the collar and brought it to my neck, I could feel the thick leather push against my throat, then against the back of my neck as he wrapped it completely around my neck, locking it shut. As I heard the clicking noise of the lock I felt the rest of my fragmented memories vanish, left was only the image of my master in full leather gear. "Cum." He ordered. Cum burst forth from my cock, covering the boots of my master, each pulse of my cock spilling yet another glob of thick cum onto his leathered soles. "Clean." He ordered this time. Somehow my mind instantly knowing what to do I fall forward, down on all fours. Slowly I start licking my masters boots clean. Still wearing my masters leather jacket I could feel its tightness over my shoulders in this position, while simultaneously feeling the thick, leather collar around my neck as I was moving my head around, not wanting to waste a single drop of cum my master had allowed me to consume. "Undress, boy." He finally. He seemed to be able to read my thoughts and feelings from the other side of that shut door, THROUGH my cock some how; and he used that knowledge to work me into a sexual frenzy I'd never known before...and he kept me right on the very edge, the very verge of an orgasm...but not quite so close as to let me slip over the edge. That, maybe more than anything else, was the biggest reason I came to enjoy visiting Bob! I was unable to go over to his place whenever I wanted, but, in a way, the very infrequency of those visits made the ones I made all the more thrilling and rewarding.Yes, I did often feel a twinge of guilt after visiting Bob. I'd think of my wife, perhaps at home, likely working in our gardens (which is one of her passions), naturally unaware of what I was doing, or with who I was doing it. But I meant no disrespect towards her for going to Bob's. It was just...menopause. I still wanted to have a sexual outlet; and if my wife was no longer interested in sex, then I had to.
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