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Now, that said, I'm not going to say things didn't get a littleweird. With the help of the device we finally made good on a ton ofdirty kinky little ideas that had been running through both our headsall day. I think the strangest bit was probably when Ellen swappedher boobs onto me. Man, that really threw me off. I mean, she has themost beautiful boobs in the world, don't get me wrong, but when theywere sitting on my chest? It was a very strange sensation, even if itwas kind of fun to experience Ellen's hyper-sensitive little nipplesfirst hand. Still, I couldn't help but feel more than a littleemasculated by it, and, well, I'm not gay, so the sight of myfootball-player chest bouncing around on Ellen's frame as she poundedher red-hot dick into me was more of turn off than anything else.Ellen was also weirdly obsessed with my tongue for some reason. Shekept acting like she was seeing it for the first time. I guess shewas considering getting a stud? She kept swapping mine back and. I glanced up to see that my truck was still pointed down the Interstate and then looked down again, pulling the neck of my shirt away from my body. There was another hole in my chest, also very slight in diameter, just to the right of my sternum, at about the level of the sixth rib. I'd seen many similar holes in my internship time at one of Seattle's trauma centers. It was a gunshot wound. Somebody had shot me."Fuck me," I muttered, feeling the burning intensify. I looked frantically around the truck, searching for the gunman, but saw nothing but hills and dirt and pine trees and snow. Who the hell had shot me? Why had they done it? What had I ever done to deserve this?My survival instinct kicked in, bringing up two points at once. First of all, whomever had done this was probably still around somewhere. I needed to get the hell out of here, quickly. Second, I'd been shot in the chest, right of the sternum. People died from this sort of wound all the time. The right lung was under.
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