Salacious want boils in my chest and neck. His hand holds my head roughly in place and my hip is pinned by the edge of his desk. He's so strong. I cou...dn't escape if I wanted to, which I don't. This is what it means to be man-handled. This was where that word was born."You're real name. What's your real name?" he demands, impatient. His hand hovers above my rapidly reddening butt-cheek, and I don't know how to answer. If I did, I'm not sure I would, because I want him to hit me again. I want. I agreed with them, so we got out of the bar.As we arrived there, we took the elevator and got into their room. It was a comfortable suite with two large bedrooms. I went to the bathroom. When I came back, they had already a bottle of red wine ready and I sat in between them. We start drinking and talking and I started touching their legs with my hands and caressing them with my stocking covered legs.Both black guys started to touch me and play with my legs and ass.I knew it the time had come. David was stunned by what he saw. The bedroom had been decorated when Susie had been thirteen, all in shades of pink. The bedcover and matching drapes were all frilly and feminine. Pictures of unicorns and ponies adorned the walls. The bed was covered in stuffed animals, including the well worn pooky bear that he had bought her when she was four. And in the middle of all these precious childhood symbols, sat his sixteen year old daughter, almost naked, her breasts heaving with lust. Lust. Finally he decided to pluck up courage. There followed lengthy, detailed andintimate correspondence. He was aware that there were a lot of fakes out there- call girls and the like. He became nervous at the length and extent of MadameIsabel's questions. She wanted to know everything about him; his personal andmedical history, his financial status, his rubber wardrobe and his rubber experiencesand fantasies. He opened up over time, and she was understanding, for as sheexplained she too had to be.