heavily.
âOne thing the tie round my tits did do was make me breathless. Are you finding that? I could only take in short gasps of breath because it had pulled my ribs in as well. I was almost hyperventilating, though I could still control it, and my head was light with oxygen. I suppose thatâs what getting high is like, sniffing hairspray or whatever. Anyway, everything you are seeing and feeling becomes bright and exaggerated, like a cartoon. And then it all stopped with the tie, as if he was switching me off like a machine. Except that I had to keep on going, although my wristswere tied up, I had to keep rubbing myself against the sheets to keep the feeling.â
Sally jerked to a standstill, hooked one finger inside her fanny and tugged at the crotch of her jeans, which had ridden up right inside her crack.
âBen would never wear that tie again if he knew what was going on now!â Janie said. She reached down to pull her trousers away from herself, and found that the crotch was soaking. She hoped it was hidden behind the damp cushion.
âYou should make a special point of selecting it for him,â Sally cackled, âand point out the wet patch while youâre at it!â
She bounced back onto the sofa, smoothing her hand a few more times over her fanny. Then she shook her hair back, grabbed her wine glass and drained it. Her eyes gleamed across at Janie.
âOh, yes, I almost forgot,â added Sally matter-of-factly. âThen Mastov showed me his hard-on.â
âI thought it was never going to happen!â
âThere I was, tied to the bed, and he lowered himself down over me, and got his dick out: it wasnât long, but it was thick, and throbbing.â
They both squealed with laughter. Janie was sure she would give herself away any moment. Her knickers were sticky and she was breathless with mentally enacting Sallyâs story. As Sally kept reminding her, she hadnât been with a man for years. She couldnât even remember when she had last felt remotely aroused. Sally always said it was because Janie was too romantic, expecting a knight to come galloping along on a white horse waving his sword, instead of a real sweaty man rolling up in an Aston Martin waving his hard-on. But until now, Janie had refused to worry about it. She was perfectly happy in her world of friends and paints andthe odd flirtation but, if that was the case, why was she so turned on now? Perhaps it was the cottage, the rain, the weird twilight falling over the afternoon, or Sallyâs way with words. Whatever it was, she had virtually creamed herself in the chair and she was utterly confused.
âSo much for your man-free zone,â Sally said, waving the wine bottle around. âIâve brought Mastov right into the room, havenât I? By the way, you can unleash the tits now, unless youâre happy like that!â
âI wondered why I was feeling so light-headed.â Janie chuckled, flushing. As she undid the bow and loosened the tie, her breasts bounced forwards heavily. They seemed to expand with the freedom, but the tingling ache inside them only increased. She wanted to be alone, to hold and massage them or, better still, to have someone else caress them.
âDonât look so serious!â Sally exclaimed, as she made to refill Janieâs glass. Janie put her hand over it to stop her. âYouâve enjoyed every minute, donât deny it. Look at you. Colour in your cheeks at last. I think Iâll stop there for today.â
âYou canât stop,â Janie protested. âWhat about Mastovâs tongue? You got the teeth, but what about the tongue he promised you?â
Sally started to laugh.
âThe secret of good story-telling: get them engrossed, then leave them in suspense!â
Janie uncurled her long limbs from the chair to stand up. She was shaking. She put her glass on the mantelpiece and once again looked at herself in the