"You're no use to me any other way. Are you, Ben?"I grunted a reply and took hold of the rubber cock. Pushing it in andout of her only served to remind me of what I couldn't have. My own cockwas hard, painful, pushing against its steel prison, but it couldn't goany further. She climaxed with a shrill scream of pleasure, and I felttears of misery pricking at my eyelids. The following day, she took meto the store to try on my 'uniform'. That was when my downward slidebecame a tumultuous plunge into a deep, dark cavern of despair.It wasn't just any store. It wasn't even a uniform store. She'd found astore that catered to the rubber fetish trade. I tried to reason withher."Hey, Sandra, this isn't part of the agreement. Not this kind of thing,it's all, well, rubber."She stayed calm. "They sell rubber aprons, my darling." I heard hermurmur, "Amongst other things."What other things?She led him inside, and an old-fashioned bell rang. A woman walked intothe store from an inner room and smiled.. This place is going to be crawling with people. I went down in the elevator and met everyone from the floor at the door. They all were talking at once. I said, “Go up and look while I get dressed real quick.” As I went to the room four guys were following me. I just shook my head and had to say as they all bent down to the dead guy, “Don’t touch the crime scene. Go call a clean up crew. Come on, act like Deputy Marshals. You know what to do.”John Scott was standing at the door, smiling at me. As the four guys left he pulled the door closed, with him out in the sitting room.I slid off the shorts and found my jeans and T-shirt. I put on my sock from the night before and the other shoe. After putting on my shoulder rig, I brushed my hair back and finally took a leak. When I opened the door, Bobby was in jeans trying to keep the DC peoples’ hands off the patio door.I looked at John and said, “Haven’t these guys watched any crime scene videos or had any training? They’re like a bunch of.
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