I turn and approach his desk where he sits leaning back, his feet propped on his desk. He has complied, his zipper open and when he spies my look of rebuke his free hand rummages within and little Doug pops into view. Long, brown the foreskin forming a point that I know will soon transform to an amazingly purple knob of unparalleled proportions. I like viewing it. He again signals me to expose myself and I just casually shake my head and smile, handing him his glass of red. Then I playfully reach and untie his shoes. I then nod. He knows to slip them from his feet. I lean forward and loosen his belt buckle then extend my hand upwards to unbutton his shirt. The remainder he can do right handed, continuing to grasp the phone in his left.
By now he gets the message. I remain clothed, he
