Kathleen realized he was going back to the office. He was going back to the office as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened. She gathered the sheet at her breasts to cover herself and stared at him in a state of shock. They had met at her townhouse during lunch hour as they often did. Michael had taken a cab from Wall Street. Kathleen rode the subway from the office where she practiced psychotherapeutic hypnotherapy. The townhouse was their little love-nest. The place where they could come together and consummate their forbidden love until the day it could be made legitimate. At least that is the way Kathleen had seen it."Please don't be angry sweetheart," he continued. He was standing in his underwear and shirtsleeves, fastening his cufflinks. "It's better for everyone this way. Especially you."The condescension in his tone was unbearable. Kathleen was speechless. His sudden change of heart had come on so suddenly. Up to that point, Michael had been promising her that he would. She would feel absolutely nothing if you tried to stick it in her. It would just feel like you're prodding her with a feather. There's no power there, no thrust. Just a limp little 'clitty' trying fruitlessly to compare to a real man's cock. I think, if you're ever going to be intimate with a woman again, you should let her fuck you with a strap-on. You'd enjoy that much more than trying to perform the role of a man.Oh, the sight of you lying on the bed with your legs up in the air as your man fucks you. The way your soft womanly curves jiggles with every thrust, and the way you can't help but moan louder and louder as you are getting the dicking you need to stay satisfied and happy in life. The way those little droplets of infertile cum leaks from your clit, completely reinforcing the idea that you are, at your core, entirely lacking of any kind of male virility. There's no potency there, no masculine strength. You've surrendered all that, because you want him to be the masculine.
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