He sat on the edge of the bed for a moment yawning and farting, until he decided maybe he'd better bite the bullet and get dressed. Being a nudist is ...ne thing, he thought, but this is Michigan and that's December out there. Once he was dressed he headed downstairs to wait for the women. He gave some thought to starting breakfast, but decided to wait for them to come down, since he'd learned a long time before that it was simpler to just head down to Becky's.The women were up for breakfast at. Taking a handful from the box he quickly mopped up his messfrom the carpet and around his member as best he could, and placed thesoiled tissues in the bin."Now, just stand there Pansy," said Debbie, "and only speak when I tellyou to, do you understand me!?" Yes, Mistress Debbie," replied a rather confused and frightened Pansy.Debbie then sat down on the settee next to her twin sister. She took herphone and carefully typed in a number that she had written down on apiece of paper, using only the. "The scores say she's a good fuck... Are you performance-oriented, Honey?" The crying woman nodded. "Okay, anyone want to test-drive?" It was decided that women who could collect no bids on the first pass would be allowed to volunteer to demonstrate their skills for the remaining audience (if there was one) and things moved forward. As time went on, turndowns happened regularly, which more or less guaranteed a second round for some of the women, at least. When you factored in all of the. The good times, the bad times, the sad times, the glad times. They all came to me again. Not like an image. No, not like that at all. Too clear. Too poignant.It was as if I was living them again briefly. I could feel my lips move, my body react. I could smell smells. Feel feelings. They went by.I was ten. We were in our apartment in the Bronx. My dad was drinking. Drinking hard, like he always did. He was screaming at my mother. She was screaming at him. I was cowering in the closet. I was.