When she awoke she found herself in a different position.She was on her back on a padded table. Her legs and feet were held apart by aset of metal sha...kles bolted onto the table. Her hands and arms were likewiseheld down. There was a pillow of some sort under the small of her back, holdingher naughty bits in the air. This time there was light and she could see afigure calmly sitting down at a table idly surfing the web on his laptop,stopping every now and again to jot down a note. ?Ah!? said. They always want to see the head cheerleader and the quarterback end up together. They always want to see the fairy tale. But in the fairy tales the story ends when the princess marries the prince. No one ever asks what happens next.I can't claim to know what happens in every fairy tale, but in mine, I'll tell you that the fucking Prince turned back into a frog almost immediately after the wedding. And it's my own fault. Oh sure, there were a bunch of others, who advised me. They were. "I was fuming of course, but this was the first time Carl had hintedthat he would be willing to release us from this accursed torment. Ihad to seriously consider it. I had no desire to live my life as a manwith a pussy, but I really doubted if I asked him for my dick back in aweek he'd just set everything to normal and leave us alone. This wasthe only way out he had offered.I walked to the men's room and glanced at the urinals. I hadn't usedone in months, but now I was aware I hadn't been using. "NO! I haven't done THAT." (I lied. Like a lot of guys I had played around at tasting my own semen but really couldn't get past just trying to get the flavor my pre-cum--and that was pretty tasteless from what little of it I sampled.) "Well, we may have to do something about that sometime." She got up effectively stopping the conversation. A couple of days later, when we were in bed getting ready to have sex she asked me, "Remember what you said about tasting your own come? Do you want to try.