Because the game was not working out as they had hoped, the men turned their attention to other pursuits as the fourth quarter began. Their interests ...urned to me. The men had dropped their pants and sat on the couch like the three musketeers with their cocks at attention. They passed me around like a bowl of potato chips starting with Spencer, passing me over to the toupee, then to the stud. Each got a half dozen solid strokes before passing me on to the next one. I soon learned it was a game. And after that, his hand disappeared and I was left cold, trembling and listening silently. I was a toy displayed for anyone to see, but set to the side until use of me was desired. I was a prettily decorated set of holes for him to come back to when he was done. The thoughts and foul analogies made me settle into the chair where I didn’t fight the bondage. I didn’t so much as wish the discs on my nipples would be taken off. I felt empty of desires at the moment, coldly neglected, and my. More

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