“I’m painting his portrait,” she told the others.“Bridget’s an artist,” Iris explained to Lucinda and Zing.“You look the artist,” Luci...da commented, “with your black tights, long straight hair, mannish shirt, and black beret.”Bridget and Scotty rode their bicycles to Bridget’s apartment, an attic garret on High Street, where one room, with a bare wooden plank floor and a single, north facing window fronted by the higher leaves of an enormous old oak, was devoted to painting. Under her easel was. It's getting light but nowhere near getting up time. You are hidden somewhere under the duvet. Little by little, my poor brain begins to bring up to speed on the night before.Oh, God! I tentatively feel my bottom parts. Ouch! Sore. Remembering more now, the riding crop, the knobbly glass dildo thingy.I need a pee and, once in the bathroom (too bright), more memories. And the red marks on my bottom and the insides of my thighs. My little oyster is a bit red too, but it doesn't hurt to pee, and I. She stopped the massage. I thought I had really wrecked things. "Come with me." she ordered. I followed her around the casino. We came to the washrooms and she told me to wait outside. A few seconds later she came back and dragged me into the women's restroom. She pushed me into a stall and closed the latch. Within milliseconds her lips were attached to mine and we kissed passionately forever. My hands were roaming her body and hers mine. As we made out I heard women come into the room and. Said Dawn. She used to volunteer at my father's Riding school you know. That's how I got to know her. Well they chatted a little longer. Then Sir Michael said how about ones virginity. How did one loose there virginity. Well said Dawn. You know how I lost mine. Yeah to the Butchers son wasn't it? Or was it the milkman? You know full well it was to you my love. Replied Dawn. That's right said Sir Michael. The milkman came afterwards, he always was late coming. And it's no secret that when I was.