By this time, I had turned on the bed, desperate to meet her gaze, to convince her that everything I said was true. I reached for her hands but she pu...led them away from me. I tried to move in closer, but she only turned her back to me. I felt like I was poisonous or something. She countered every one of my advances with a retreat. How was I going to comfort and reassure her if I couldn’t touch her? I watched with an aching heart as she flicked the lamp on her nightstand off and lay down. I. Becky’s hand reached into his knickers as she wrapped her painted nails around his engorged member. She pressed against his bottom, jamming the cock deep inside him. I pictured myself teasing his prostate as I rubbed his cock – the cock that symbolised his masculinity. The cock he would have been so proud and boastful about, had it not been wrapped in pink lace and subjugated by the insistent dildo that hummed in his arse. Could I…? I tried to suppress the thought but it was tool late. As I. More

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