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I surely did. Lisa folded the second towel and put it on the floor in front of the couch.She kissed me on the lips, “C’mon. He’s ready for you.”She didn’t have to tell me what to do. I got down on the floor, kneeling on the towel with my upper body angled down onto the low couch. I felt her fingers spread my labia and insert the tip of the enema-bottle. The cool lubricant filled me, then began to leak out.As soon as she was done, she positioned Prince behind me, pulled up on his collar and said, “Mount.”His front paws landed heavily on the couch on either side of me. He started air-humping trying to find my cunt. Lisa got hold of him and guided his cock into me. I felt Prince’s full weight on me as he grabbed my hips with his strong front legs and paws. This was not a lovers tender embrace. Prince was raping me, forcing me to submit. It was scary and exciting.This was the first time I had ever been penetrated by the warm flesh of a real cock. I felt it stretching me with each thrust.. The car's doors were unlocked and he found her bag plopped down in the front seat. Glancing around, he noticed that her car was filled with empty fast food cups and wadded up wrappers. There were two rumpled bed pillows in the back seat as well as a pair of blankets. Something clicked inside Jeff's head.Kim was living out of her car.Quickly his mind raced through a few fantasies about stealing Kim away and using her like he had Stephanie. But he just as quickly shook off such thoughts. There was no way of dealing with her in the long term, not like Stephanie. No, better not think such thoughts unless he wanted to wear orange jumpsuits the rest of his life.Grabbing her bag, he rushed back into the house. Michelle was still on the couch, her delicate face pinched with apprehension."Be back in a second, slave, and turn the TV back on," he said was he headed down to the basement, "or I'll have Kim come party with us."Michelle still clasped the remote in her cuffed hands. She twisted.
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Dinner that evening was no different than "usual." As we had every evening since the day after Christmas, we all listened to Tiffany describing in minute detail what she did during the day and how the pregnancy was affecting every organ of her body. Since the organs under discussion invariably included her boobs — their growing size in particular — it wasn't a subject that drove me from the table as quickly as it usually did Jeanne and Jill. This time, though, they departed with even more haste than usual, both of them glaring at me as they retreated to their rooms. After I'd done the dishes — without Jeanne's help this time — I knocked on her door. No answer. I called her name. Still no answer.I was seriously bummed. This was the week that I was going to start tracking down the mystery of life. Or at least the mystery of my life. Who the hell was Patrick Sterling, and how the hell did he get that way? I already had a pretty good answer to the first question. He was an arrogant.

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