Now, they had all that information as well. They also took pictures of their handiwork. The note on the car was a reminder of my situation. Imagine me...not cooperating. Imagine me blowing them off. What would they do? I sat there dazed....overwhelmed. Trying to collect my thoughts...How do I go home stinking of piss, all the filth of my outfit from laying on the floor...what would I do to explain my situation to anyone that saw me. The phone rang..."BTW bitch....we videotaped our session. You. “Yes, but after that? Next week? Next month? Next year?”“I can’t predict the future and neither can you,” she said. “So when you finish your ice cream, you are taking me home and fucking me unconscious. Period. No arguments.”December 7, 1991, Milford, OhioBethany sighed deeply when we disentangled on Saturday morning. I knew the feeling, as I’d very much enjoyed the warmth of her naked body next to mine. I climbed out of bed, put on my robe, and went to take a shower. Ten minutes later, I was. " I felt my stomach drop. "Here it comes," I thought to myself. To her, I just said, "OK." "I don't pretend to know what's going on, but first, I want to know, no I need to know if you still love me. Do you? Do you still love me and want to make love to me and live with me and hold me and grow old with me?" She still wasn't looking at me. I didn't hesitate for a second. "Yes. I do. To all of it." My mind buzzed with other words, but none of them seemed right. She turned around and. All restraint was gone now and he power-fucked her ass, so that his immense organ buried itself to the hilt on every stroke. Her fingers scrabbled for purchase on the copier, but she only succeeded in hitting the repeat-copy control; the machine rolled into action beneath her and began to flash repeatedly on its back and forth journey, copying and printing multiple images of her compressed tits as she lay there being mercilessly slammed. She screamed, half in fury, half at the sheer force with.