Marianne, with the big breasts and round, bouncy ass. Many's the time I bounced off it as I plowed into her from behind. Ginette, the intellectual, wh... liked to talk about English literature and Renaissance architecture, but was a red-hot maniac in bed. She would climb atop me and ride for hours, conjugating irregular Latin verbs and pumping me in the same rhythm. Theresa, the madonna, who swore she would have become a nun if only she hadn't been overcome with lust for me. Hotly passionate. . talk about my story some more?" We should, Sally. I ought to explain some more about what you can and can't write about. Same time today, OK? It's Friday so I know there won't be any painters today.He was a masochist. A weak, wimpy masochist. Why else would he have come home again today, at noon?The apartment that he and Shelly rented belonged to a friend, a somewhat kinky friend. Along with its wall and ceiling mirrors, the master bedroom had a small adjoining hidden cubicle that their. I'm supposed to mix nine parts of olive oil with one part ofsomething else, and then quickly, while it's still fresh, give you abouttwenty drops of the mixture. But it can't be swallowed. It either has to beinjected into a vein, or dropped directly into your belly-button. And,unfortunately, you won't be able to give it to yourself because your bodywill naturally reject it. He says that I, or someone else you trust, willneed to tie you down first, and then give it to you."The side-effect, he. . p ... p ... please Mr. Goldstein. Please don't make me do something like that..."Sal reached over and unbuttoned another button which was now about even with her crotch. "Jenny, I thought you were going to cooperate. Have you forgotten? Do you want to just go home?"Jenny thought about the predicament they were in. She had no idea that "anything" might include a blowjob. She tried to gather herself. She tried to calm herself enough to answer, but she just couldn't bring her words out into the.