I've always been a little, shall we say, reserved, around men. Ever since these things on my chest started bulging out, men have paid me more attention than I want. And the wrong kind. So at college I kind of kept to myself, fending off advances that were more or less crude and aggressive.
One day, though, I met a guy who seemed really nice. He didn't slobber or stare, and we had a nice conversation. One thing led to another, and we wound up at his apartment, which was way off campus. And he had no roommate. That might have clued me in, but it didn't.
He opened a bottle of wine, and we continued our conversation. It was almost a relief when, an hour or so later, he finally asked me to take my clothes off. So I did.
He was nice, and kind of shy. What could go wrong?
Did you ever wonder what a man might do to you if he had no restraints? If he had a whole night, a whole very long night, to do things to your body, your helplessly tied down, splayed out, naked body, your straining, lunging, sweating, writhing body? If you were gagged so that your pleas and screams meant nothing? And he had no remorse?
You don't want to know. Trust me. You don't.
