The ceiling fan was a long forgotten breeze now that I was buried beneath a hot and rutting bull. Any thought of escaping brought another punishing ha...d slap against my ass. I was staring into the tweed of the sofa cushion and bit into it for stability agains the raging gail behind me. Nevertheless, I cried out, in manly chest voice at first, but as I relaxed into my role, my screams moans became ever more primal and feminine. There would be more outfits to follow and more submissions and more. Naturally, Sheila would do the processing. That would become part of the story. I could easily imagine some future Antiques Roadshow appraising a framed picture of, say, Sheila and Elspeth. For provenance, there would a set of the local paper, NY Times Magazine and Unique Bride issues containing the wedding coverage. That was very easy to believe. Harder was the thought that a picture of Elspeth and I would also be in the collection. Christine hugged me. She often does when I feel unworthy.The. More

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