“So you feel bad. That’s normal. Get drunk, get laid, get in a fight and get arrested, whatever, but don’t kill yourself.” He made to push pas... me again and I grabbed his shoulders and kissed him. I don’t know what made me do it. Desperation, maybe. Insanity was also a possibility. He froze for a moment and then grabbed me and kissed me back, hard and hot. My head spun and my knees felt weak. When I’d said get laid before I hadn’t exactly been offering, I’d meant ‒ He ripped my shirt open,. The former wore a blacksleeveless T-shirt and well broken-in jeans, while the other had on aregular T-shirt with the name of a popular motorcycle brand on it, andblack jeans. Both of them sported scuffed boots. They saw the sissyhusbands standing bent over, panties around their thighs, bottoms wellreddened, in corsets and heels. Their mock boobs were impossible tomiss. Both of the tall athletic men were seized by laughter. Theyrecovered and went to the women, grabbing them and kissing them. More

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