My right hand was placed on top of her left cheeks, my finger tip inside her panty touching the top of her ass crack. Her left hand was placed on my r...ght breast over my thin lacy bra. I could feel the heavy flesh of her ass on my hands.I had never defined me as a bisexual. But I wondered how it will be to caress her breast. Would Gemma move if kneaded her ass? What if I flicked my thumb across her nipple? I began to fantasize about how she would moan if I sucked on her nipples. I imagined she. I started to leave but I felt frozen in place.“Hello young one” snarled the figure in a voice which made me feel sick, “I have a deal for you”. “I just want to get home” I replied trying to get past but still not being able to move.“Be mine, come with me and be my slave”“What?” I laughed, “You can’t be serious”“Be mine, or everyone will look at you the way I do, be mine, or be everyone’s” the figure stood to one side and I felt my movement come back to me, with one of his hands he reached out. There was much banter between me and the other man to begin with. As the hours wore on though, our mutual dialogue became more strained, more point-scoring and combative - this as we both strove to outdo each other in Her eyes. We jockeyed keenly for position, verbally parrying and thrusting, in a charged conversational attempt to impress and amuse Her and gain Her favour. But eventually we gradually grew silent as by mutual consent. It was obvious to The Woman that both we men wanted her and. "Not even Pastor John knows about it. It is a group of ladies with special needs. I have observed you over the past five weeks and I know you have a place in that group. Will you attend a meeting with them? I will be there as well." I nodded. That meeting was the coming Monday.That Monday evening Sharon and I left Pastor John at home and walked the short distance to another member's home. On entering I was greeted with hugs and kisses to my cheeks. I felt so at home as we sat and chatted,.