‘Because, I don’t like to see someone like you unhappy. You would look much better with a smile on your face.’ She tried a smile that was as fak... as her hair colour. ‘Not that kind of smile.’ ‘I have nothing to smile about.’ ‘Then tell me what you have that’s not to smile about, and I’ll see if I can help you.’ ‘No-one can.’ She was convinced of that. ‘Try me.’ She took some time to gather her thoughts, time enough for me to take yet a closer look at her. She was wearing a bra, that was. A condom was out and she pulled it on to her hand like a doctor. My puffy hole didn't need anything gentle. I mean, fuck, it just had a double-ended dong slammed into it. She started fisting away, using the duck to start with, but she soon started punch-fisting me like I was her puppet. I would try to wriggle away, I tried to grab her wrist, but she just kept fisting me. I watched this (kind of, as I was too lost in my own bodily torment), arse in the air, face turned towards the wardrobe and I. More

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