The night was a poem written by smiles and kisses, peppered by laughter and purring. Two people reached out to each other, for comfort, for solace, fo... something… And they got it. How to reconcile the two parts to one day? Both were different worlds. One was empathy, the other intimacy. One was global horror, the other personal bliss. The two pieces of one span of time were as different from each other as the night and day that separated them. A curious sense of guilt wormed its way into my. .Hot-pink open-face hood goes over the doll's bald rubber head, sealed inby the neck corset wrapped around its neck, holding my head rigidly upand forward, but not compressing my throat too much - I will need plentyof room in there for what will cum inside in the next could of days. Now,with my mouth and throat stuffed, I cannot even moan, just breathethrough my nose in labored, shallow breath.My legs are released, and one-by-one are inserted into knee-high, heavy-rubber, almost-ballet pony. More

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