I just make up stuff.“„Just what is it you're writing?“„It's a – I guess it's a sort of romance novel.“Marion proceeds to read: „`...Mis...y sobbed uncontrollably as the whip lashed against her upthrust bottom again and again. Yet, somehow, the more the Count punished her quivering flesh, the more she wanted him. Her arousal blazed with her, consuming all other emotions. Her hips ground wontonly, shamelessly in the air, thrusting against the impact of the whip...´ Does that sound like a romance. Eh?"Joe just watched. Speechless. There she was, d****d over a desk, a skinhead between her legs eating her pussy, and another one, at her head, feeding his cock into her throat. Standing at her side was a punk rocker girlfriend of one of them, taking turns in manipulating each nipple. The boys were calm and practiced. They'd used her before. Joe was gutted, but...excited as well. He somehow detached himself, from who it was....to what it was. His cock was hard again. Looking to his left, at Mr. More

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