I remember feeling pineneedles on my legs, and I rested my head on my arms. I remember seeing the other dogs, and could not helpbut look between their...legs; their cocks emerging fromtheir sheathes. Red, pointy cocks, twitching as if inanticipation. I tried to think of something else.Anything. But I could feel it building in me. My hipsarched, involuntarily rolling, bucking back to meet hisjackhammer thrusts. My toes curled in the air, my cunnymuscles clasping, tightening around him. Squeezing.. ‘The yanks call these suspenders, did you know that?’ I nodded. ‘And these,’ she said, stroking my suspender through the long black dress I was wearing and with a mischievous grin in her mis-matched eyes,’ are known as garters. Funny how we speak the same language but use different words. Are you wearing any knickers?’ Why does she sometimes speak louder than necessary? ‘Now then, my little knowledge fount with tits, I want you to explain something about this artist’s work.’ The artist in. More

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