I'd done all of those things. I couldn't get past the thought thatif somebody else had been moving my body I would know. The priorprobabilities pointe... strongly to this being a psychological test, Yungwas just trying to work out how gullible I was.But still. If I had been controlled, how would I know? Could I somehowtest it from the inside? Maybe if I decided to do something -- or notdo something -- I could tell if I was being controlled. If I actuallydid do it, then I knew I was myself. If I. I felt myself stretch as he pushed slowly. I moaned and breathed. It was all I knew to do. Once he was fully inside me, he smiled down at me, leaning down to kiss my neck, moving in and out of me torturously slow. He moved his mouth up to my ear, licking it and I almost came right then and there. He sent chills all over my body with that and my nipples hardened even more. He continued the slow strokes, groaning. I was dying. The slowness was excruciating, but in a good way. I felt more. He has two roomates, who, well, play a smaller role in this story. I'll call them Michael and Tim. Michael and Andre share a room, and Tim, who is white, has a room to himself. There's also a common room, kitchen, etc.So anyway, Tim has made up some sangria and we eat the steaks and we're drinking, and the conversation, as it sometimes does when you get a bunch of 20-year-olds in a room, turns to sex. And at one point Michael asks me if I've ever been with a black guy. I tell him, truthfully,. “Sit down” Harry instructed, pointing towards the toilet and Kim obliged. Harry moved towards the stall wall and grabbed hold of the toilet paper holder. With one quick jerk, he lifted it off the wall, placing it on the floor between the toilet and sink. Behind it, a small circle cutout was revealed. It was cut into the stall wall and peered perfectly into the stall next to them. There was no doubt about it, it was a gloryhole. Kim had never been to a gloryhole and didn’t even know they were.