He Keeps Quiet

Sam didn't say a word. He'd watched enough cop shows to know that when you're getting interrogated, you're supposed to keep your mouth shut.

"Not much of a talker, huh?" She said, taking a seat. "I would've thought that a guy like you — big swinging dick, full of **** and shit — you'd do just about anything to get your cock in my hands."

The thought made his rock-hard manmeat pulse, but he stayed quiet.

"Or try to make a deal to get out of here, at least. A big cock is a pretty good bargaining chip around here..."

No response.

"How is your cock, by the way? You've been good 'n hard for a pretty long time, now. I imagine its still hard and starting to feel swollen in a painful way, rather than a good way."

Still nothing. The woman gets up from her seat, walks around the table, and stands behind Sam's chair. She looks down to check his cock out for herself.

"Oh my," she exclaimed. "You really have a huge cock, huh?" She moved in closer and nibbled his ear lobe. "It looks like it hurts..." She half-moaned the word into his ear. "What if I help you out. Just a little bit?" Her hand glided down his chest, past his crotch to his leg. "I help you. You help me. Right? It's a win-win?"