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From: david_shaw@my-dejanews.com
Subject: "TRIKED, TRICKED, TROLLOPED" (M+/F: NON CON.)Part 2
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	Trike - he'd used that word before. I supposed it was because of the
three wheels underneath the pod. Again I could see more rocks, some of them
sticking up out of the sea in streaks of white water, and then a small figure
on a blue and white motorbike driving along the beach. The trike's nose
twitched up and as we passed over the motorbike it was dwindling away in size
as we climbed higher. So many times I'd heard bike riders talking about the
wonderful feeling of the wind in their faces as they rode their machines and
now I understood what they were talking about, but in a way that no
earthbound rider could ever understand. Compared to a trike, a
Harley-Davidson as a freedom machine was just a very efficient device for
turning fuel into noise.

	"Sandra, Eddie, says he'll be on his way in about ten minutes."

	"What? What did you say, Brett?" I'd been staring down at the coastal
highway and a queue of cars held up behind a slow moving semi-trailer.

	"Well, to tell the truth I have my mobile phone with me when I fly,
plugged into the radio communications circuit. There was no point in trying
it down on the beach, it wouldn't have worked any better than yours did. But
we're fifteen kilometres closer to Kelkenny Ponds now and mobiles use
line-of-sight waves, so the higher up you are the more range they have. I got
through to Eddie first try and told him exactly where your husband is stuck."

	"I didn't hear anything," I said. This all sounded pretty suspicious to
me.

	"No, I thought it would simplify matters if I cut you out of the
circuit. Anyway, he said to tell you that he'd phone the hospital and let them
know you wouldn't be coming in today - oh, yeah, and he said he'd make sure he
set his VCR up to tape 'Red Dwarf' for Jeff in case they were late back."

	I turned all this over in my mind. One thing was sure, Brett must indeed
have talked to Eddie to know that 'Red Dwarf' was Jeff's favourite TV comedy
programme. It certainly hadn't been mentioned on the beach. On the other hand:
"Why would Eddie tell the hospital that I'm not coming to work today? We're
going to Kilkenny Ponds, aren't we?"

	"Oh, eventually, yes. In the meanwhile though I thought I'd spend some
time feeling your tits. As fair payment for the ride, you might say."

	"What!"

	"What!" he mimicked me. "Well, what you do first is to put your hands
up on the control bar. Then I'll put my right hand around underneath your
right arm and grab your right tit."

	"No way!"

	"OK, Sandra, have it your way."

	The next second the wing tipped over onto one side and the pod went into
a horrifying spiral which convulsed my hands into clutching claws on the seat
handles as I screamed in terror. It was far, far worse than being on a roller
coaster. Finally, at long last, Brett stopped throwing the plane around.

	"Now, Sandra, before I ask you again, I'd like you to look up to where
the support bars are attached to the wing. You see that bolt there? That's
called the Jesus bolt, because that's what both of us will be screaming if it
breaks and we drop off the wing. Now, which would you rather have, some more
strain imposed on the Jesus bolt, or my fingers around your nipples?"

	It was not a decision I had to spend a lot of time making: "I don't want
the bolt to break." I said breathlessly.

	"Fine. Then put your hands on the control bar and sit quietly like a
good girl."

	I did as he wanted. Immediately his hand slipped around my body and
touched the side of my right breast. It seemed to be as far as he could reach
and it served him right - let him be as sick as a dog with frustration. I
looked down at the pattern of fields and dirt roads below and practised what
I was going to say to the two timing shit once we were safely back on the
ground.

	"You know, you're the first girl I've had in that front seat who's
got boobs so big I can't reach them properly from the back." Brett sounded
proud of the fact. "I knew you were something special when I saw you from the
air for the first time. I've just got to get my hands on them properly."

	"Brett, I'm a married woman," I protested.

	"That's OK, I'm not going to steal you from your husband, I'm just going
to borrow you for a bit, like a library book. What the hell, you must have
acquired a few dirty finger marks on your virgin white pages already."

	"You're a real bastard, aren't you?"

	"I'm sorry, Sandra, but this thing is bigger than both of us. Your
things are, anyway. OK, what I'm going to have to do is to unfasten my
harness and lean forward so I can really get a grip on you. It's no fun
unless I do it with both hands, so you'll have to fly the trike. No matter
what happens, you hold the control bar level and everything will be fine. Of
course if you fuck it up I'm liable to fall out."

	I was as mad as hell at his insolence: "Well, fall out then, you prick,
and get yourself killed."

	I could hear him chuckling through the background hiss of the
headphones: "Sandra, have you really thought about that? I mean, if I do fall
out, you're going to have seventy eight kilos of desperate man holding onto
your tits like they've been held before. And even if you eventually shake me
off it still leaves you up here on your own. How do you think you'd go at
your first solo landing?"

	"Oh shit!"

	"Come on, Sandra, a nurse shouldn't talk like that, a nurse should be
caring and gentle towards those in need, and I need you. But before we start
I want you to unzip the front of your overalls and then pull up that
tee-shirt so I've got plenty of bare skin to play with. I know you're not
wearing anything else, I could see that on the beach. I don't know how I
managed not to get stiff just looking at you then."

	"Brett..." It was a forlorn wail of protest.

	"Twenty seconds to get ready for me, Sandra. Otherwise we'll give the
Jesus bolt another strain test."

	"God!"

	"No, Jesus. Come on, let me see you doing something - or better still,
undoing something."

	I took my hands away from the sides of the seat and tugged at the zip
until it was down around my waist. Then I struggled to free myself from the
tight folds of the flying suit until I was back where I'd started from, with
both of my tits hanging out and pressed together by the narrow opening of the
garment.

	"Come on, Sandra, what are you playing around at? You've got an
impatient man back here!"

	"Shut up! I'm being as quick as I can..."

	The tee-shirt was a tight fit as well, and as I clawed it up inch by
inch the loose folds collecting up underneath my throat started fluttering
wildly in the wind. We were passing over a farm house, a tractor moving
between the sheds like a picture on toybox. I hadn't realised how much higher
we'd gone up since leaving the beach. It was cooler, too, even cold. When I
lifted the last fold of my shirt up over my nipples the wind chilled them
into a firming response. Brett was going to enjoy finding out about that!

	"Sandra, surely you're ready by now? Or do I have to shake you up
again?"

	"I'm ready, you whinging bastard!"

	"Both of them hanging out and bare?"

	"Yes," I confessed.

	He chortled with delight: "Don't worry if they're getting cold, I'll
soon warm them up for you. Now, put your hands on the control bar and do your
best to keep the wings level with the horizon. Don't worry, it's easy to do."

	Maybe it was for him but I couldn't imagine it being easy for me. Yet
when I held the bar nothing much seemed to happen, except we began wobbling
more than before. I wondered if Brett was still holding onto the extensions.
Then I suddenly found out for a fact that his hands weren't on the control
bar because they were slipping around my arms. And this time they didn't stop
until his fingers were cupping both of my breasts and making my nipples
respond as if they'd been touched with live wires from a battery. For the
first time in my life though I was being felt by a strange pair of hands and
hardly noticing them beyond an involuntary bodily response. What was taking
up the really major part of my attention was stopping the trike from toppling
out of the sky. My eyes were flicking from right to left and back again as I
checked each wingtip, desperately trying to keep them balanced against the
horizon. In comparison to the difficulty of doing that having Brett playing
with my tits was just an annoying distraction.

	"Aaah, that's nice... I never know which is best, flying, or getting a
grip on a new pair of tits for the first time. When you can do both together
that's magic. And when they're nice juicy water melons like yours, Sandra,
that's a real bonus."

	"Shut up, I'm trying to drive this thing!"

	"Better do a good job then, sweetie, because if we pile in now in this
position the accident investigation guys won't need any black box to know what
happened. They'll put it on my tombstone - 'He went up in a cockpit and came
down in a titpit'."

	I couldn't prevent myself from giggling at that crack, which stopped
abruptly as we hit an air pocket or something and the trike shook as though
it had hit a pot hole in the sky. I squealed the horizon dipped and began to
slide around us.

	"Don't worry," Brett told me calmly. "Push the bar forward -
forward!" He emphasised the command by jerking my nipples away from me. It
was quite painful but that was the least of my worries as I pressed as hard
as I could against the bar. Things seemed to change, not that I was quite
sure how, but we were still turning.

	"Tilt the bar up to the right," Brett ordered, emphasising the
command by scrunching my right tit in his hand as hard as he could. I gasped
and did as he wanted, until we were flying properly. Somehow we'd turned
completely around again though, because the sea was in front of us now.

	"Pilot teaching by means of sensory input - works wonders, every time.
Hey, Sandra, you've starting some heavy breathing. It's about time you showed
some reaction after all the effort I've put into getting you nicely excited."

	"I'm frightened, not excited!"

	"Like hell. I told you you'd look better than that bint on the boat when
you were stripped off and now you're wondering when it's going to happen. What
you'd like is for me to land as soon as I can and then give you a good general
purpose fucking - with another afterwards for luck."

	He spread his fingers out as wide as he could and sank them into my
soft flesh as I swallowed air again as I had at the beginning of the flight.
I'd done it then because I'd suddenly found myself involved in something I
knew I was going to go through with and now I felt the same way again. If we
landed in a remote place and Brett kept pressuring me in the same places as
he was now there was only going to be one outcome, because he was right, I
was getting as eager to be laid as he was. Then he started crooning again, a
romantic little seasonal number:

	"Rudolph the red titted reindeer, with your nips so tight, won't you
pull my sleigh tonight?"

	I called him a cunt.

	"You're lucky, Sandra, I've had a vasectomy, so we can do it the old
fashioned way, with me riding you bareback. You girls really need it pumped
into you before you get that final zing out of it, right? God, as soon as I
landed on the beach and saw you I knew it was going to be my lucky day - one
look and I knew you were absolutely ripe for rooting. So we'd better get on
with it."

	His hands came off me: "OK, I've got the bar. We're seven kilometres
from a nice little spot for a bit of quiet nookie out in the open air, so
let's wend, Pancho!"

	"Pancho - what does that mean?"

	"Before your time, Sandra, before your time."

	The trike turned around tightly, back towards the hills. Brett kept
talking. "There used to be a fire lookout tower up on that ridge ahead. It's
been taken down now but the Forestry Commission made an airstrip a few
hundred metres down on the opposite slope. Just enough for a little biplane
to land and change the firespotters over every two weeks or so. It was never
worth the cost of putting in a road. So we use it now."

	"What do you mean by 'we'?"

	"Trike flyers. We're the only ones who can get in there now, unless you
walk, and not many people do that. It's a beautiful spot for some open air
fucking."

	His assumption that I was putty in his hands to do whatever he liked
with made me grate my teeth in anger. I was torn between wanting to put
scratch marks on his back or across those smiling eyes of his.

	"You know something, Sandra, sometimes I teach people how to fly
trikes. And one thing I have to show them is how difficult it is to fly on
instruments alone and why they should stay clear of clouds. To do that I have
a hood which fits over a flying helmet. It covers their eyes but it's cut
away underneath so they can still breathe and look down at the instrument
panel. I think that's a good idea, don't you?"

	I couldn't understand what he was talking about: "What are you asking me
for? I don't know anything about flying."

	"OK then, I'll tell you something entirely different. When they were
training hunting falcons back in medieval days, they always used to tame a
falcon when it landed by putting a hood over its head. I think you might be
tempted to use your claws on me when we land so I think I'll tame you with the
same technique, by putting my blind flying hood over your helmet. What a piece
of good luck I just happen to have it handy."

	The sarcastic bastard was really enjoying himself.

	"Hold onto the control bar again, Sandra, and listen for any orders I
give you."

	I put my hands back onto the rubber grips. A second later a piece of
black fabric was pulled down around the helmet, then a cord around the bottom
of it jerked tightly underneath the helmnet and around my neck. It all
happened very quickly. As Brett had said, a large rectangular piece was cut
out at the bottom of the hood but to see anything I had to literally look
down my nose - or past it anyway.

	"OK, Sandra, I've got the control bar again now. Incidentally, that cord
is tied up behind your head now, and you wouldn't find it a very easy knot to
undo. Nor can you undo the helmet straps underneath your chin while the bag's
on. You've heard of the man in the iron mask?
Well, you're going to be the lady in the plastic helmet until I let you out of
it. Which will be after I've had the pleasure of your company."

	He sounded about as happy as a man could be. Which, under the
circumstances, was probably justified. A nice day flying around, see a sheila
you fancy, swoop down, pick her up, squeeze her teats, make her helpless and
then spend a happy afternoon giving the stupid bitch the thorough shafing she
deserves for her trusting stupidity. I wondered if he was as inventive a lover
as he was a liar and a flier.

	The trike began turning and turning, presumably over the place where
he intended to land. With my head craned back as far as I could get it I
could just manage to look straight down into a frustratingly narrow field of
vision. There were the slopes of the ridge, littered with large stones, then
some trees close together, an open expanse of grass, a kind of large wooden
framework which must have been the base of the firewatching tower. What
looked like a sheet of canvas had been tied between the stunted wooden legs
to cover the ground between them.

	I saw something else as well, small differently colored scraps of
material fluttering gently from the sides of the four legs, like bunting
outside a used car lot. The difference was that I was sure this bunting was
exclusively composed of girls' panties. Not bunting, but little flags of
triumph, two or three tied to each leg.

	"Can you see our windmarkers, Sandra? You're not the first flying fuck
up here, not by a long way."

	"You're the most arrogant man I've ever met!"

	"Yes, but am I the most arrogant man ever to fuck you?"

	"You haven't done it yet."

	"Well, Sandra, I hoisted up most of those panties myself, and yours are
definitely going to be the next pair."

	"And did you have to blindfold the other girls too?"

	He laughed: "Every one a blind date, Sandra, everyone. Until it was time
for them to suck my cock. Then I let them see what they were doing."

	I would have given my life's savings for a chance to get some of my
own back on the bastard. Even just to scream abuse at him, but it didn't seem
like a good idea while he was landing the trike. Nor did it seem a good idea
to have my head twisted over to one side as the grass came nearer and nearer.
Better to sit upright and straight in case it was a hard impact. Staring into
the black depths of the material over my face plate, I waited for the thump.
There was one, hardly noticeable, then the same vibration from the wheels as
had happened when we were running along the beach. Guilty, my feet came off
the foot bars, where I'd been resting them without remembering Brett's
instructions to keep clear of them as we landed.

	Then the vibration ended and the engine stopped. No more wind blowing
past, only the chilled skin on my breasts as a reminder of it and the hot sun
warming them already. The pod creaked as Brett got out.

	"Hold the control bar, Sandra."

	This time, after he'd taken the wing tip ground pin out from under my
seat, he put his hand right up between the legs of the flying overalls and
rubbed me slowly. I think what he enjoyed most about it was that I made no
protest, no effort to stop him. The truth was that I was unable to make up my
mind what to do. I hadn't resisted Brett in the air because I'd been afraid
of us crashing. I couldn't do much to stop him now, even if I wanted to, not
being almost totally blind. Even if the mask and the helmet were taken off,
I'd still be on my own with him way out here in the bush. But the first thing
to do was to try to persuade him to undo the mask, no matter what I had to do
for him afterwards.

	"Please, Brett, let me take this helmet off. It's like having my head in
a bucket with it on."

	"Later, Sandra, later. When I feel like it I'll let you give me a blow
job. Tilt the bar now and hold it while I secure the wing tip. Gently, gently,
that's far enough."

	His shadow across my legs moved away as he went to secure the wing.
Now I could feel that was a breeze blowing up here in the hills,  a hot
gentle breeze fluttering around the open flying suit and the tee shirt drawn
up tight around my throat, almost as tight as my throat was inside. It would
have been wonderful to have felt it on my flushed face. Something hit the
ground, probably Brett's helmet. He'd wasted no time in taking his off, I
noted angrily.

	"Put your hands down by the sides of your seat, Sandra. I want to take a
good long look at the scenery."

	He was standing next to the trike. He had to be for me to hear him
through the helmet - anyway, I could see his shadow falling across my knees
again. God, he must be loving this! I imagined myself as he was seeing me,
helpless and undone, my big boobs scrunched up and hanging out like ripe
fruit in the sunlight, ready for the picking. Brett's shadow blotted out
everything else as he bent lower and I was surprised when his hands went down
to unfasten my seat straps, rather than further up or lower down. It occurred
to me that perhaps he wouldn't risk a struggle anywhere near his precious
plane. He helped me out of the pod anyway, then led me away by the hand as I
stumbled along behind him, trying to keep my eyes on my feet as we stepped
through the rough grass. Spears of it stabbed through my beach sandals and
made me gasp in pain. One thing was certain, I wouldn't be running away, even
if there was anywhere to run to.

	"Almost there, now, Sandra. A few more steps."

	A few steps it was, into the shade that I felt more than saw on the
ground. No dapples in it, no flecks, but a total shield from the sun. We
weren't underneath a tree, so we must be below the canvas sheet I'd seen
flying overhead in the trike. The wind was still fluttering over my boobs
though, so it wasn't like a tent, there were no canvas walls. We were still
in the open air, standing in the remains of the old fire watching tower. The
ruins decorated with all those intimate feminine articles presumably left
behind by other visiting trike fliers. My knees began trembling.

	"OK, Sandra, shake them for me."

	"What?"

	"Put your hands up underneath your tits and shake them up and down for
me."

	I tried to summon up my remained of my self respect. "And what if I
don't?"

	Even with the thick plastic dome over my head I heard his chuckle: "Then
the helmet will have to stay on, until you decide to do what you're told."

	It was the obvious response, an easy and effective one. He knew how
much I wanted to take it off. I sighed and did as he wanted, gently juggling
myself for his benefit. Brett had won at every deal in the gane and now he
was starting to claim his winnings. And he was probably sighing too, if he
really thought I was as fuckable as he kept on saying I was.

	"Now that's a job I wouldn't mind helping you with."

	Yes, he did sigh, with satisfaction, as he put his hands back on top
of my nipples and plucked them into hardened points. It was skilfully done
work which had me holding them up to him for the treatment to continue. He
obliged with his tongue, his lips and his teeth. A very odd experience, not
to be able to see but to be seen, to be almost blind and yet to be right out
in the open air. I wondered if there were any bush walkers in the area with
binoculars held to their eyes as they watched the performance. Especially
when Brett suckled me so fiercely that I had to hold onto his shoulders to
stop from overbalancing.

	"You bastard, Brett, you bastard..."

	"I think it's time we stripped you off some more, Sandra."

	I felt his hand tugging unzipping the front of the flying suit, all
the way down to the bottom. He was moving around me, behind me I thought,
then knew I was right as he tugged at the collar of the suit and pulled it
down along my arms and off over my hands. The suit fell down, leaving me with
the tee-shirt still hauled up over the tops of my breasts and my panties. I
felt their waistband pulled back behind me and then I yelped as he twanged
the elastic against my spine.

	"Beautifully posed, Sandra, beautifully posed. Just one slight
adjustment and you'll look perfect."

	One fast tug and the panties were down where the flying suit was, below
my knees, with Brett laughing aloud at my instinctive and totally useless
attempt to grab them as they were plucked away.

	"Brett!"

	"Christ, Sandra, you're built like a brick shithouse. Love those legs,
you must be a bloodstirring sight in a miniskirt. Now let's see if your cunt
feels as good as your tits do."

	I couldn't believe it. I couldn't believe that I out in the middle of
the bush, naked between the pulled up shirt and my knees, with a hand
creeping up between my legs, another on my right nipple and a mouth over the
left one. And what did I do about it? What I did about it was to grip Brett's
shoulders again to keep my balance while I stood there like a knocked kneed
cowgirl so the exploring fingers could have all the room they needed. Oh, and
as a final touch of encouragement, he must have been able to hear my grunts
of satisfaction coming from beneath the helmet. Even to my own ears I sounded
like a pig snuffling through garbage. Brett snorted too, he snorted with
laughter when he stopped sucking my nipple because he knew I was shivering
with eagerness for everything and anything he wanted to do with me.

	"OK, Sandra, take two steps forward and put your hands out in front of
you." His voice was brisk and urgent.

 	"There's a table there, a wooden one we found here. On top of it there's
a mattress. Don't worry about it slipping, it's tied to the table. Turn around
and sit on the end of the mattress, then lie down on your back and spread your
knees out to show off your cunt."

	"You're a real charmer, Brett, aren't you?"

	"Right now, I'm not interested in massaging your ego, Sandra just the
rest of you. Get your arse on that table and spread them, because I'm coming
for you, ready or not."

	I did as he wanted. The edge of the table appeared underneath my chin
as I shuffled forward, and the mattress as well. It seemed low enough for me
to able to lift myself up on it without much difficulty. It was also thin,
and old, and dirty, and sticky. None of which was surprising considering what
it was used for. Yet although I'd reached the stage where I needed to have
the same thing done to me, it was still a humiliation to be sitting there
with my clothing twisted up around my legs, as though I was sitting on a
toilet bowl.

	"On your back, Sandra."

	There was no point in trying to argue. I leaned back on the tacky
mattress cover, to find that the helmet supported my head quite comfortably.
Through the gap underneath the hood I peered down my body, but my tits
blocked out almost all the view, except for an occasional glimpse of movement
at the end of the table. Then I saw his dark hair for a second as he lowered
himself between my legs. His hands spread my knees even wider apart than they
already were.

	"A man is no man if with his tongue he cannot win himself a woman. Let's
see if Shakespeare was right."

	I don't know what Shakespeare did with his girls but Brett quickly
turned out to be the most enthusiastic cunt licking boy I've ever had an
encounter of the best type with. The only real trouble was that the helmet
was on the wrong person - I could hardly find the breath to encourage him
underneath it, and he must have needed it badly as I pinned his ears back
with my thighs. Big, big licks, with an occasional halt while he took off my
sandals, the flying suit, and then my panties, leaving me seething with
impatience for him to start again. Another pause, then as he used his fingers
to make sure I was properly on the boil after being the well nibbled entree.

	"I've got you where I want you now, you big titted bitch," Brett
gloated as he worked me, the table creaking underneath my spine. I wondered
if I was the heaviest girl that had ever been laid on top of it and whether
it was going to collapse when Brett started fucking me.

	"Now I think we'll take that helmet off so I can watch your face
while I'm sticking my cock into this mincing machine yours." His fingers were
doing the mincing, churning around inside my clamping muscles as I began to
go crazy. "But we have to go by the rules here, so there's one little job
left to do."

	He seemed to more self control than I did. Probably because he was
older. I didn't care what rules he was talking about. Not until I felt a
tingle from a thin length of metal over my stomach.

	"Before you ask, sweetie, I'll explain what I'm doing. There's a
length of fine chain looped around the table top with a small padlock
securing it. I've undone the padlock and now I'm going to refasten the chain
again, around the table and around your middle. There's no way you'd ever got
hips or tits like yours past it, so you'll stay on top of the table until I
undo the padlock. But I will leave it slack enough so you can turn over, or
crawl up to the end of the table to give me a blow job."

	His entire hand seemed to be inside me now.

	"I think they're satisfactory arrangements, don't you, miss big tits?
Because there's no way you're ever getting off this table until I decide to
let you off it."

	"God, yes, anything you want, Brett, anything you want."

	He didn't answer. I tried to look around and saw nothing, though I
heard movement. I guessed that Brett was taking off his flying suit.
Afterwards he put his fingers underneath my neck and undid the knot behind
the hood. It seemed to take a long time before it came loose. It seemed to
take even longer for him to snap open the chin strap and to ease the helmet
off. The light was dazzling and the rough material of the mattress was
scratchy against against the back of my head. Above me the canvas was
flapping gently.

	"Well, hello, Nurse Pearson."

	I screamed in shock as hands grabbed my wrists and elbows. There were
men, naked men, all around the table. But the only one I had eyes for was the
one between my held out legs, the swarthy man with black hair all over his
body who was carefully sheathing his cock inside me as if he was slipping
into a hot bath.

	"Doctor Gottlieb," I whimpered. Only the most detestable medical man
I'd ever met, the one with the ugly cow of a wife who was always trying to
make up for his miserable marriage by trying to chat up the nurses. I
despised the ugly creep and now he was fucking me in front of an audience!

	"And the doctor is in!" He jammed everything he had into me and I
gasped. The bastard had more to him than I'd ever expected, but when it came
to bastards..."Brett!"

	He was at the end of the table, looking down and laughing. "Don't
worry, Sandra, I'm next. But when I called all the guys up on the radio and
told them I was going up to the tower with a red hot nurse one of my mates
said he had a passenger who was a doctor at the Kilkenny hospital. We thought
it might be a good gag to have you meet like this - the Doc was all for it,
especially when he found out who you were. Of course I didn't let you see all
the parked up trikes when we landed but you'll get to meet all the guys
pretty soon. You're our Christmas box."

	Two of the guys had already grabbed hold of my tits, as a convenient
way of encouraging me to rub their cocks for them. Two more of them were
holding my legs as Gottlieb ploughed away between them and I crushed
underneath his increasing weight as he spread himself on top of me. Never,
never, never would he allow me to forget this.

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