"God damn this floor is cold lady," he snarled, "Can't we get up? My hemorrhoids are hurtin'."Brenda swung the gun around to Artie in a menacing way a...nd stared at him. Arte kept twitching. Artie had small hands for a man and they were not much larger than his wrists. He kept wiggling until he had one hand free and reached into his back pocket and took out his penknife. He kept wiggling and opened the knife and started cutting his brother's ropes. He was almost through the bounds on his. No shit, Christ Bodhi McLean, but everyone had the sense to call her Christie. Their mother -- Delia -- had been quirkycute, the kind of effusive and seemingly eccentric but secretly frightened woman who'd appealed to him so intensely when he was in his late 20s and going through one of those stupid not-yet-mid-life crises a parent's death can bring on. It'd helped that she was younger yet divorced -- someone he'd known wasn't looking for a wedding any time soon, and still had all the charm of. I didn’t argue. I just closed my eyes.Next thing I knew it was daylight, but that cold, thin daylight of early morning. He was stroking my hair, then he was kissing the back of my neck, then he was pulling the covers down…I pretended to be asleep, but he kept fondling and kissing and groping. He rolled me on my back and stuck his fingers right in my dry cunt. I opened my eyes and cried out in pain.He told me he’d probably never have this chance again so he intended to enjoy me as much as. At last I made it. Mozquito was embedded to the root and my balls were nestled against Mel’s perineum. Her tight ring of muscle was as effective as any cock ring at trapping my blood, and Mozquito felt so huge and hard that I was surprised he wasn’t poking out of Mel’s mouth. Traditional pistoning in and out of such tightness was a physical impossibility.I forced my left arm under Mel’s slender body and hooked my right arm over, using them to pull myself against her smooth, warm back. Up close,.