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Justin regaled us with tales of his team's triumphant victory up in Santa Barbara but, to be honest, I was unable to really focus on his narrative. No, I was now apprehensive about what had just taken place in Mr. Brockman's studio. I'd not only allowed him to take off my panties but had posed naked for him and then jerked him off to orgasm Most of it was lost to time but not the photos. No. No, those pictures were real and wouldn't just go away.
This was getting more and more complicated. I loved Justin and wanted to be his girl but what would I do about those photos?
