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We're done with you."--- The days after that were worse for Daisy. Every minute of every day was spent on the edge, waiting for an email from Peter or a phone call from one of the men. She drove by their house more than a dozen time but there was never any sign of life. It's like it was abandoned except when there were parties. She masturbated incessantly now -- to the movies and stories on the Internet, to memories of that weekend -- but they weren't enough. She'd gone over the line, she needed real people causing her real pain. By Thursday, she hated Peter, wanted to hunt him down and kill him. And the bastards at the house. She'd call the police, turn them in, that would show them! No, that wouldn't do. She'd camp out in front of the house, her car parked across the street, surely somebody would show up. Friday, she hovered over the computer all day from the moment she woke up until Ben called her to bed at eleven. He wanted to make love but she said she was sore and tired and. I admired her narrow waist and the two dimples in the small of her back just above her buttocks. I noticed the swells of her breast being pushed out from lying on her chest. Her back was smooth and flawless. Not a mark or mole could be seen. Her hair cascaded to the side as she faced away from me.I climbed onto the bed and straddled her legs. My limp dick cradled into the valley between her cheeks. I lightly walked my fingers up her back causing her to emit a weak groan. I slid my hands back down and then walked my fingers up each side. When I reached her lower ribs, she squealed and slammed her arms down over my hands. I continued to tickle, pushing my fingers higher until I reached her arm pits. She was laughing hysterically now, thrashing violently below me.“No Jake,” she screamed. “Usted me hara pis.”I understood the ‘No Jake’ as well as the ‘me’ and ‘pis.’ I stopped tickling and she pulled herself from under me and ran to the bathroom. I heard the toilet seat clunk. ‘Damn, got.
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