Just drop your trousers for me will you."Fumbling I did so, not daring to question her right to strip me. My cock spoke for me anyway, it was rearing ...lready. Well, I was just eighteen. She gestured to me to remove my underpants, holding out her wastepaper basket for me to throw them in."Yes, very good, excellent. Nice and firm and no false modesty I see. I can't stand a boy who tries to hide his erection. Lovely pair of balls too. Just turn sideways for me will you please?" she gestured for me. She gave a new definition to the term 'tree-hugger.'The moaning and groaning of all those wanton teenagers did not affect me consciously, but subconsciously my ears and brain picked up on those erotic sounds and directed them to the organ most usually affected by them. You guessed it. My cock-a-doodle-do did. Being in its usual head down position and unencumbered by jockey shorts or jock strap - which I never wore, anyway - my prick began to lengthen and swell. Understand, this is not an. More

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