~ * ~ * ~ * ~ After reading the synopsis of every intriguing book her eyes fell upon, Penelope had accumulated a hearty pile of books. Her arms were ...tinging from the pile’s weight, but that was about to change. As she rounded the corner to the adjoining aisle, the pile of books came crashing to the floor, though not before she could catch a good look at the reason . . . A man was a bit further down the length of the aisle. His biceps flexed as he leafed through a thick novel. Wisps of soft. She was wearing a silver dress, rather like a large shirt, that was gathered at the bottom. She produced a book of tickets and explained that a ticket was good for a show and a drink, for a special price. “So much for free, I thought,” but I purchased a ticket.She took me by the arm and led me to a booth and directed me to enter. The booth had a vinyl covered bench facing a large, glass window that divided my section of the booth from another area containing a chair. My companion, whose name I. Throughout the night I would whisper to Jim the kinky things I wanted him to do to me, then would squeeze his cock.We got back to the room and I primped and strutted for them. Then I bent over and pulled out the plug so they both could see and they cheered as semi-drunks do. Went to get primed for my fucking, came back out and sat on Fred's lap and he felt me up as I undid Jim's pants and pulled out his cock. It was standing straight up! Licked it then turned around and undid Fred's pants and. Apart from the subject matter, she seemed unable to get beyond fragments of things: a few pages of a story, perhaps a few more, before she was starting something new entirely. Another condition of the Black Box, the incapacity to sustain an idea. Not all the fragments she sent him were some variation on the unhappy woman, the unloving husband, the inescapable lockdown of life choices. One involved a middle-aged man whose formerly happy life and career had collapsed from an indiscretion with a.