Anyway it didn’t matter; Doug was never getting anything from me willingly. By Saturday, I had discovered that a big round handle of one...of my hair brushes would fit inside me just nicely. That brush and I spent several long sessions together. It almost seemed like Mr. G had turned on some kind of switch inside me. Sex up till then was something I just kinda just did for the guys. They kept you around if you kept them happy. And the social part of being with the group. His long, curled dark hair hung messily across his brow providing only minimal relief from the damned sun in his eyes; it's blistering rays keeping him from seeing more clearly where he was. He lay on his back, lifted a weary, shaky hand to his brow and flinched as he touched a stinging bump, bringing his fingers away to spy flecks of crimson.With a herculean effort he heaved himself onto his right side and then to shaky knees, now slightly submerged thanks to the rising tide, and looked about. More

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