So what do you say?’ ‘We’ll see. Goodnight.’ ‘Goodnight.’ Off she went and closed my door feeling the numbness that grew nice and tight. I...wondered if she saw me getting a hard on and was reluctant to get to know me more. She probably thought I was a pervert or some sicko. I figured forget it and go to bed. The doorbell buzzed once more. I quickly opened the door and there was Cynthia. She came inside and slammed the door behind her. ‘I haven’t had a date in a long time’, she said. ‘Me too.’. Their stories are almost always the same--they fantasize that some serial killer would rape and murder them. While most of them have been sufficiently sane to admit, after a few rounds of e-mails, that they don't really want to be murdered by a serial killer, most had dropped subtle hints that if the erotic writer should decide to track them down and rape them for real, it wouldn't be the end of the world. The erotic writer would usually oblige, insofar as writing a story featuring them as. "I dug out my toilet kit and some clean clothes. The bathroom was a large affair with a huge shower recess and tiles everywhere. Stripping off I had a shave, being of dark complexion I was having to shave daily now. Starting the shower I stepped under the streaming hot jets and relaxed, There was a jar of shampoo on the shelf so I poured a little on my head and started to massage it in."Move over lover, there's room for two and we can save on the water bill." Ah, and I was just starting to. I just nodded at her to continue."Well, I decided I wanted more, so I put my hand in his shorts and felt his cock. It was hard, of course, and he really seemed to like it, so I unbuttoned his shorts. He did the same to me." I started jacking his cock." I must have had a question on my face, because she laughed and said, "No, I'd never done it before, but the girls talk in the locker room and at slumber parties. He didn't seem to be complaining, so they must have told me right." Anyway, he had.