Because the weather had been so warm, Barbara had worn her skimpiest thong. Something her husband referred to as butt-floss underwear."Oh good Lord this is great," Terri barely contained, "What could I do to help things along?"Bill Wilson and his wife Rhonda, who were sitting four rows up behind Terri, noticed Barbara's exposure."Oh Bill, I'm going down there to help her" Rhonda told Bill."Rhonda you stay right here and we'll let this situation play out as God intended."Terri stood up and nonchalantly stepped in behind Barbara. Trying to make it look like she was striving for a better view of the game, Terri grabbed the fabric of Barbara's skirt and pushed it down over the sharp top of the wire ties, firmly securing it.Terri returned her seat to await the start of the show. Barbara, still unaware of her predicament was immersed in the game. She would cheer, take a half step forward, step back, and jump, all the time her skirt was impaled on the fence. The men were enjoying Barbara's. Still here, okay you can keep reading, but if you meet me you have to promise to pretend you know nothing about what happened to me. They sat me on a stool; Dee knelt in front of me and started painting my toenails. With the aid of one of those gadgets women use to separate their fingers when they paint them, Cass did the same to my fingernails. I quite liked the colour though, a sort of reddish purple. I tried to see the name on the bottle so I could buy some for the missus. After 2 coats, they both seemed satisfied. When I was dry they stood me at the end of the bed. Dee took another pair of cuffs from the bedside table - what was this place, a warehouse for some kinky paraphernalia shop - and fastened it to one of my wrists. Cass knelt behind me and reaching round grabbed a handful of my wedding tackle, with the other hand she held that dreaded knife over my prick. "Don't move." I guarantee to you, the only movement I was likely to make was my bowels, and I clenched my cheeks.
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