**Roberta**
“You aren´t getting any wetter. Not good enough for you, baby girl? Neither I nor Kenneth? Well, we brought a bottle of dyke-grease.”
I wasn´t looking at the bodybuilder, a piece of a man speaking and it would be testing boundaries if I acknowledged the existence of his beer-bellied buddy.
Below the lamp with the vermilion shade laid two bills, orange in the normal light. Prosperits I was bought with because my team lost.
“Grab her arms. She begs to be nailed, not nuzzled.”
The thick beard of Kenneth´s swathed my fingertips, and I would be afraid of lice if the grime wasn´t going to stink out the inner tissue´s recesses. Bernard, the iron pumper, pressed my ankles together. My nude form was manhandled to a wooden cross, lying askew between the bed and the other wall. The clasp of leather drawn tight could be called mild if one was previously lifted by… *Them.*
“You are a dyke and, what is worse, a teacher,” Bernard said. He sucked in my supposed fragrance. „You smell foul, but cunt is a cunt, and I wished for an odd dainty – the milf adroit pussy that is rejecting the dicks. And I must only add the coating.”