My underwear was next to go, and no amount of cursing or pulling at the waistband was about to stop it. So there I was, pinned to the sofa, with no idea what was going to happen next, my underwear hanging down around my ankles. ‘Was this how the authorities were going to find me in the morning,’ I thought. It’s funny what your mind thinks under intense stress. Instead of worrying about what was going to happen next, I imagined them entering the home and seeing me naked on the sofa with God knows what done to my body. I cringed at the telephone call to my family and them having to identify my weirdly mutilated body. Suddenly, I was shocked back into reality.
It felt like a moist mouth had engulfed my flaccid p***s! Straining against my invisible restraints, I looked down to see my limp c**
