The muffled moans and screams could be heard while she was gnawing on my shoulder. I had to do something before she drew blood as there were no signs ...f her stopping.Turning away from the wall, I carried her, still impaled on my cock over to the kitchen table. Laying her on the table, I pulled her ankles onto my left shoulder, and started slamming home. There was an instant creaking coming from the table.The last thing I wanted was Keisha having to explain how the table got destroyed. Changing. I wanted him bad. I laid back and drifted back into my dream. It was a very erotic dream, just one continuous sex scene after another and I was enjoying every minute of it. I found myself fingering my pussy and was already getting wet.I thought that it was too bad he wasn’t here. We had a pretty good sex life. We had our little games and most recently we had progressed to him even fucking my ass. He was okay size-wise, I guess (I had never been with another man), but he could really get as hard. Well, at least I knew what the time was with morecertainty. But it also reminded me, as if I needed reminding, thatthere were still another seven hours and forty-five minutes to gobefore my first day's torment ended.The PISS continued to sit dormant in my arse, though my arse continuedto fervently wish that the PISS would piss off and sit dormantsomewhere else.More people passed by outside the cabinet. Again they were all women,mostly young. They didn't seem too interested in the mannequin. Still grumpy she told him, "Well, the FBI always tries to hog the lion's share of the good publicity and avoid the bad. Daddy told me about the way the FBI operated. He worked with them and the CIA on one job."Jesse laughed, "It's called running between the raindrops. Honey, the FBI gets most its funding and then some extras only so long as they look good. Otherwise the congress gives their budget to another agency. In the end it's all about money, not glory." Well, I still don't like it." She.