Then the unthinkable nasty thing happened. The one that had been playing with my vagina, pulled his fingers back out and stuck one really hard into my...rectum. I let out a little yell, and he said: “You better be quiet bitch if you want to see tomorrow.” I nodded my head. The man put his other three fingers back in my vagina and his thumb on my clit. I had never felt so stimulated in spite of my disgust at what they were forcing me to do. He kept this up for a few minutes, and then I had a. . Someone asked what would happen if a bloke got the wrong glass and we all burst out laughing again. (Of course, all this seemed hilarious last night... what's going to happen when i get to work this evening is another matter and find that word's got about.)Anyway, we were all still killing ourselves when two blokes came sidling up. They were in their mid forties and were both well dressed in suits and ties; they had a waiter in tow who was carrying an ice bucket with two bottles of. Some of the things Steve had said though still didn't fit, so I asked more questions, expecting some kind of answers. I was surprised at how more often than not, the answers bring about more questions:"So who turned Eileen into a crazy person?" Mama Adele was the agent, that's for sure. But she was just an instrument. A tool. Someone else was behind that. She, it, whatever you want to call the go-wa-na-ditche, was doing it on behalf of someone else, for sure." And Eileen is in fact this. His rough hands against my thighs make me cum hard as i moan, my eyes rolling back. After a while i look up embaressed to see him staring at me with pure lust. He opens the machine latch without breaking eye contact and drop it beside the bed. The plastic cock continues to pound into thin air. I expect him to move and open my legs but instead he climbs further between my legs. "If you want real pleasure, just ask baby girl", he says huskily before latching his mouth to my well fucked pussy. I.