I appreciated her hair. I asked abouther education and where she grew up. I learned of her interest infashion design and her ability to tool leather. ... avoided talking aboutmyself. In short I was a perfect gentleman. Emphasis on "man."Yet through it all, lurking in the back of my mind, were felt images ofher humiliating me. No, I wasn't thinking of them. It was just that theywere now a part of me and my relationship with her. It was a presencethere somewhere behind me infusing my sub-conscious. ”“But ... he came inside you...”“Mm hmm...” Demie extended her tongue ... and kept extending it. When it reached seven inches and the end opened up like a tube, Shepherd scrambled backwards.“Wha--what the fuck are you?!”In Arnold Schwartzenegger’s voice, Demie responded, “Da Sperminator.”Other Tom laughed. I didn’t.Shepherd saw her pistol, still on the kitchen table, and rushed for it. Nobody tried to stop her, since it was empty. Nevertheless, she held it out toward Demie as if it would offer. More

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