The organdy curtains floated serenely in the breeze. I had dressed my hair myself this morning, and the light wind tugged the a few curly wisps free o...f the simple twist. It had been a week since my wedding night, and I was slowly becoming accustomed to sleeping in the same bed as someone else. John and I talked each night before we fell asleep. He hadn’t tried to make love to me again, but now and then he would catch hold of my hand briefly, lay a hand on my neck, or kiss me gently. These small. It looks like an old bathroom; a small room large enough for maybe five people to comfortably stand in. Mounted into the wall is the TV with the masked woman, and mounted to metal pipes on the other side of the wall is another woman. We both have no clothes (ask about strapped on weapons, if you're interested in making it more brutal), save the metal tying us to the other end of the wall, and a strange looking collar strapped tightly to both of our necks. We both look shocked, we both look. It was the only tie. It didn't matter much. It didn't take much to cover my tittys. At sixteen I still had little boobies. Karen and the rest of my friends kept talking about boys. None of us said we ever really did it. I mean go all the way. We surfed the net and saw naked men. But that was only pictures. We also saw men and women doing it. All of us wondered what it would feel like. One girl, Sandy said she saw the real thing. "No way," I said. "How could you see the real thing?" I saw my. He slowly eased his cock in and back out again, gradually ramping up the rhythm. "Ohh, fuck me, yes," Michelle moaned into the carpet, "God, that is so nice." Andrew pounded down hard on Michelle's arse as she held it up with her knees on the carpet. He grunted loudly as he forced her down toward the floor, "Yeh, you're secretly a dirty, little anal whore, aren't you, Michelle? This is what you've been longing for, isn't it?" "Yes, Sir. Take my arse, Sir. Oh -- fuck -- it's yours, Sir -- yours.