There in his darkened cell, in the early hours of the morning he assessed himself and his situation.The first girl, Sandy, he realized, was little mor... than a gilded hobby horse; a mirage with the buttons, bells and whistles. She’d dazzled him with her artificiality and the superficial charm typical of the shallow and the emotionally frivolous, the irrelevant. Sandy was the shiny wind-up toy, the cheap masquerade doll; the frill one won while standing in the false evening light of a huckster’s. He pulls away the bit of fabric, the only thing between me and everything I could possibly want and replaces his thumb with his tongue. His beard is still tickling the insides of my thighs, a rough counterpoint to his warm, smooth tongue. I tangle my fingers in his thick hair as he slides his hands under my ass and pulls me closer. I can’t help but squeeze my legs tight against his head. I'm trying not to scream, but he knows exactly what he’s doing. I’m coming now, I can’t help it. I close my. More

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