Each time he knelt down, Ruth imagined running her hand over his butt and down to touch his cock. The last statue was in Anal where there was a live...demonstration. A woman in her mid thirties was being coached through her first anal. Ruth bit her lip as the woman slowly slid herself onto the cock of her partner lying beneath her. The analist had her eyes tight shut, her mouth open as if to let out a scream. "It must hurt!" Ruth protested. "If it does, you are doing it wrong," Jon. Her refuge after a decade of the constant barrage of complaints that had marked her marriage. The house was never clean enough, the dinner never warm enough, his shirts never crisp enough. It never ended until she was lost. Lost herself into trying to please another…an impossible task. The gentle rapping at the door was getting louder. She looked around the place, trying to see it through the eyes of another. Toys filled every single nook and cranny. The furniture was all salvaged from second. More

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