Her ankles were behind her, toes pointed straight back, the straps at her ankles pressing her shins flat to the floor. Joe ran his finger along the ba...ks of her calves and she shuddered. He knew that the fronts of her feet - stretch as they were - were already getting sore. Her belly lay across a steel bar, eighteen inches high from the base, just a few inches longer than her femur. That held her ass pointed obscenely toward the ceiling. That and the leather trap that lay across her shoulders.. Simons, got that?” When I got to the apartment, I checked myself to make sure I was presentable then knocked on the door. Within seconds, it swung open and Mrs. Simons stood there in a loosely tied housecoat, and from the way it moved it was obvious that she was not wearing a bra. Although in her late fifties or early sixties, Mrs. Simons, or Meg, as I found out later, had obviously taken good care of herself, she was, from what I could see from the outline of the housecoat, slim with nice tits. More

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