Heather commandingly opened my bedroom door, walked over to where I lay in bed, gave an exasperated sigh and asked, "Where is your bourbon?"I smiled a...d pointed to the dresser."Hey sweetie. Go over to CJ's," I relented. "I muted the conversation, not wanting to be intrusive. But I heard enough," I added.Heather poured a glass full of my bourbon and replied, "I'm not going anywhere." Then she took a big swig of her drink and added, "I was in a good mood. But I am DEFINITELY not feeling this shit. I most definitely did not want to answer it - but I had to. "Yes!" I snapped, a little out of breath and cross. I know I sounded, well - distracted but I didn't care. I did have other things on my mind. I listened to Abbie for a moment. It didn't take long to realize what Abbie was suggesting. She was playing right into my hand. I liked her idea. It made sense and practicing a goodnight kiss was a sensible next step. "Oh . . . yeah, sure!" I told her, still breathless with my own excitement and. Tom was the archetypical urban nerd and Gayle liked country boys. Tom knew it, so he limited his attraction to surreptitious glances and double entendres. They flirted, and they both knew that a flirt was not a promise.Or at least, that was what Tom thought until that night online. Now there was a glimmer of hope for something more. Normally this would fuel a week's worth of masturbation fantasies. But this time, Tom went to bed hard and untouched. He drifted off imagining Gayle's hands on his. Mylene was there, tied kneeling by the side of Basher's bed; naked from the waist up, mouth wrenched wide by a Hodgkinson gag. Ropes tied around the base of her tits had forced them into the shape of distended globes; the nipples bruised and reddened. On Basher's bedside table were the implements responsible for the tortured look of her tits, clamps, pinchers and a pair of pin wheels. Basher wheeled across to beside Mylene. She squealed at his approach. He responded by widening her gag another.
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