She hears the rustle of clothes. He must be taking off the last of his clothes...no, that sliding is the silk lining of his wool coat. The next sound ...he hears is the front door of her apartment opening and closing. He is gone, with no indication of when or whether he will return.-An audio memory plays its soundtrack to these scenes. It is her own voice, a thousand times in a thousand ways saying "Please, Sir." "Please, Sir" in desperation as the pain/pleasure of the clamps pulling on her. She is not going to go for this at all.Now, she had to find a way out of this. She turned and said to me, "If you're okay with it, I'm game."I looked over and Vanessa's top was already off and tossed on to the deck. I knew that she had nice boobs, you can tell from how they look in a bikini, but, in the soft light of the spa, her breasts just glowed. I was hard."Go for it, hon, I'd love it."So, my wife whips off her top and flings it away.She leaned over to me and whispered, "Are you sure. More

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