Like it was a secret. A secret of the most dangerous sort."Yeah," I said softly just to reassure myself, then to him. "Yeah, really. I really wanna kn...ow."The man lifted his drink, looking into the darkness before tilting it back with a smile. "I'm Superman," he said softly, setting his glass down and reaching inside his suit coat for his wallet. He pulled out two twenties, laying them on the bar with an extra little pat. He stood up, a bit unsteadily and looked around. "Where's the men's room,. She didn't remember a time when this had not caused her to cum, and -- in contrast to the fate of many couples -- the sex, particularly like this, had only gotten better over the years.A scuffling sound caught Pete's attention and, using his wife's long hair to hide his eyes, he searched the upper edge of the yard's cinder block wall for the 'Peeping Tom'. He found the voyeur peeking over the wall, between two thick Holly trees. He could see nothing more than dark hair and glasses, as he'd seen. Several sets of chains with cuffs hung from the rafters and also mounted into the concrete floor. His crowning jewel however was the wall where every type of whip, pliers, torches, knives, etc was neatly displayed so his victims would see all his evil torture devices. Outside, Jason had built a gazebo over the entrance to the cellar so even if he had visitors they would never suspect there was a torture chamber located less than 50 feet from the cabin itself. With all the renovations he had to. “What kind of poll?” I asked. Staying around this perky person would mean that throbbing would eventually turn into a bonafied headache.“Actually, it’s to determine if you’ll be invited to be part of a focus group.” she said happily.As a dyed-in-the-wool loser I was intimately familiar with what focus groups did. Focus groups decided what people liked. That was a crock, of course, since people like different things. What focus groups did was tell ‘normal’ people what they were supposed to like,.