There was just no way I could take getting tag-teamed in my tight ass for my first experience...or so I thought.I had told "my owner" (I call him that...because I never asked his name, and he never told me), all of these fantasies...insisting I wanted to live them out. He seemed very unimpressed and very in-charge whenever he responded to me. He talked down to me like I was a little girl. He pretty much demanded that we meet at a hotel, where he would handcuff me and then rough-fuck me. His dick. The fact she had no underwear on was a distinct disadvantage."Harry! What are you doing? You overslept and I was just waking you up!"He opened his eyes and registered the fact that the pretty body he had his legs wrapped around was not his bed partner from the previous evening."Oh, sorry, kid. I thought you was Kitty. She must have left already. Thanks for waking me up. I got to get going. See you tonight!"Melissa straightened her skirt and scurried out the front door as quickly as she. The baridentified itself as a gay bar. It was happy hour. It was March 20, theInternational Day of Happiness. We were in Boulder, Colorado, called thehappiest city in America by National Geographic.And yet, he sat at the bar, his head lowered, his face twisted intosomething that suggested he was miserable.He sat at the oak bar, drinking something dark and ominous. His eyeswere downcast, despite the celebration around him. Balloons floated overthe bar. There was confetti on the floor. Around. I listened and she was still breathing softly and evenly. Flexing my fingers again to calm my nerves, I reached for the edge of the cloth and tried to ease it upward. At first, this had no effect again tempting me to force it. I could feel her warmth now too. She always gets so hot when sleeping, almost feverish.Her leg kicked a bit, making her foot contact my knee on the outside. I took the opportunity and managed to push the cloth up another inch. Now, I could make out the faintest outline of.
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