A Pox on the Patriarchy
Miranda masticated, awkwardly balancing on Gertrude’s thigh. Geoff sat in a clear plastic chair in the corner, malevolently masturbating. It was too degrading.
Henry’s heart had grown so engorgedly sluggish from too much creamy poetry, and his hands so weak from ever-more extravagant modes of masturbation, that he fumbled fatly with the girl’s … Continue reading
Hester smiled savagely, syringe in hand. Piers was just up ahead; her quarry was in sight. She advanced silently, her footsteps muffled by the mellifluous murmuring in her head. She … Continue reading
The sweat patches under Stuart’s arms had spread almost right down to his seething waistband. He undid his tie and belt and let his cheap suit trousers puddle around his … Continue reading