, Four, Five, Six..., Seven, Eight, Nine..." They did indeed sound like track workers driving a spike, except rather than the clink, clink, clink of ...ammers against a spike, it was the splat, splat, splat of wet hands against ass cheeks.By the time they reached one hundred, Sara was moaning loudly. At around one hundred twenty- five, she began to thrash on the deck. At one hundred forty-five she groaned loudly and went rigid, vibrating her body in an obvious orgasm. After five more slaps,. She toasted a cinnamon-raisin bagel for herself and pondered her life and the events of the day. It was not at all hard for her to define why she wasn’t satisfied with the status quo. It was entirely her fault and then again, it wasn’t. Somewhere along the line, in the past year, Heather had gone from loving her best friend to being in love with the pretty blonde. She wanted some form of commitment from Bree, an assurance that this relationship was going to last. On the surface, that was. More

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