”Brad found himself hardly daring to breathe, to suppress his anger, as she told him of the depravities inflicted on her.“I did it, but then it wa... other friends. You see why I’m a slut?”“No, you’re not,” Brad said vehemently. “The bastard abused your innocence.”“I know that now,” she said plaintively, and her eyes were moist as she turned her face up to him, before telling him of the events of the evening before.An all-night fancy dress party at the mansion-style home of a rich friend. Linda. Carson traced his fingers over the ripples in his back, a topographic map of some exciting foreign country. He started to massage him, squeezing his skin, loosening the knots in his hips, his ribs, his shoulders. Armisen groaned like a bull, rumbling the table. “How the fuck do you do that?” he grumbled. Carson just kept going, feeling faint as he squeezed the giant’s bulbous arms, the veins of his triceps as thick as his finger.“Now for the other side,” he said softly. Mr. Armisen obliged,. More

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