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"I hope you remember Sally... and what she did. Well... now it's your turn sweetheart." Ken could see the panic in Kim's eyes, as they flickered, and her breathing became very erratic. All of a sudden Lori decided to save her dearest friend. "Ken! Dear gawd, Ken. Let me do it... let your filthy dog have sex with me instead." She grabbed Ken by the shoulders looking him in the eye to show her seriousness. Ken marveled at Lori's priceless devotion to her lover but he was not swayed. "That's nice... but she tried to fuck me over. Now it's time for her to get fucked... Royally fucked," Ken whispered with a laugh. "Dear Kimmie better act like a doggie bitch... or else. But now that you volunteered... get down on all fours beside the little bitch... I'm sure I can work up another hard‑on just for you." There was no time for taking back her appeal for Ken's leniency because Lori found herself on her hands and knees. The strong men easily shifted Kim's struggling torso until she, too, was on. The good news for them was that Thursday was Thanksgiving. The office buildings were going to be closed from Thursday through Sunday giving them a four day weekend. They were feeling positively slothful and not ashamed of it at all.This Sunday, the Dallas Cowboys were playing the Houston Oilers. A result of living in Oklahoma City, the closest pro-football team to cheer was the Dallas Cowboys. Benny’s family had a slightly different take on it. They hated the Dallas Cowboys with a passion and cheered for any team that was playing them. This was not a good day for Houston. By the end of the first half they were down by 7 and Dallas had basically walked all over them.Benny’s parents and sister were clustered in front of the television watching the game. It was a party atmosphere with a large bowl of potato chips and green onion dip. There was a big pitcher of lime flavored Kool-Aid on the table. It wasn’t a very great party, because the Cowboys were winning.Tim and Benny were sitting.
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” I say, and immediately regret it.Gym-Guy’s face twists in confusion, and he slows his thrusts for a second. He loosens the grip on my right wrist, and firmly takes my hand in his. He shakes it. “John.” he says, in a bizarrely professional tone. Well, this is surreal as fuck, but I might as well just roll with it. “John,” I smile, my voice wavering slightly to the feeling of him burrowing inside me, “I’ve wanted you to do this to me for a long time.” “Really?” he smiles, his eyebrows raised, his hips starting to thrust harder. “Yes!” I half-moan, half-cry, “I was thinking about you when I was touching myself!” “Were you thinking about me taking you hard and rough?” he asks, his lips brushing against my ear, “Did you put yourself in the locker room so that I would fuck you?” “No!” this time it’s entirely a scream. My body is quaking from the inside; felicitous bouts of trembling pleasure rumbling in my depths, “It was an accident!” “So, I really am raping you.” John said, a hint of.

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