We talked quietly for a while, long enough that I'm reasonably certain she isn't going to commit suicide.While we were talking I washed our dresses. T...e insides of both of them are nasty. She finally got dressed and went home in time for supper. I sat at the kitchen table in my quiet house, sipping a glass of ice water, staring sightlessly out the window and trying desperately not to think about what the next two years of my life are going to be like.I never saw Marsha again after that.The next. Again she felt embarrassed.“What do ya say, boys? Lube it up or what?”An echo of no's and yes's. She tried to squeeze her legs shut, pulling them toward her as much as she could. It was no use. They had her spread eagled her tightly.“Lube it up for her, would ya,” she heard her husband say.“Okay, okay...that's your call anyways,” the man between her legs grumbled. “But you should see the reactions on some of the ladies when we shove it in dry...it's priceless.”“Okay, well I'm taking this out in. More

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