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Hayley had searched all over the damn house before finding the cursed audiotape, hidden in one of Steven's jacket pockets in his closet. She had searched his closet first, but hadn't thought of checking the pockets until she came up empty everywhere else. She had played it, and it said exactly what the good Doctor had said it did. Damn him! She didn't have the means to copy a micro-cassette, so she played it next to an old cassette recorder, and got a poor copy as a backup, at least, if things didn't work out the way she hoped. And it was only hope. She had no plan. She could try blackmailing him with the audio, but he could likely hypnotize her all over again and make her forget she even had it. She was stuck.
The good doctor had known that Steven was away on a fishing trip this weekend, which she somewhat remembered telling him a few weeks earlier. As she approached his house, she felt, simply, ruined. The website would be disastrous. She didn't think that the video had been Steven's idea, but she couldn't be sure, especially the way he had charged in on her before she showered, just after she had been fucked by the doctor. He hadn't been at all curious or upset that she was so late. Did he know? In any case, the video didn't show the doctor's face, but the body was obviously not her husbands. If her friends or family saw it, they would have to move. Or worse, even if it was his idea, Steven could divorce her, blaming her for cheating on him. The evidence would show it. But he loved her. She knew he did.
And she loved him. Yet, here she was, at the Doctor's house, knowing that she would have sex with some number of guys. She had no bags, although she knew she would be there two nights until midday Sunday, so that she would be home in time for Steven's return. She parked the van, noticing that others' cars were already there. She walked to the front door, feeling a mild, cool breeze blow through her blouse and hair, across her flesh. Which, in contrast to the ruin that lay beyond the door, made her feel surprisingly sensuous. She rang the doorbell.
Dr. Gilliam opened the door, all smiles. "Super! You're here, right on time. I knew you would be. You look fantastic." She smiled at the compliment; she had worked on her looks all day it seemed, in a dreamy nightmare of sensual pleasures and utter humiliation. But here she was, and she would go through with it. She didn't have a choice. Her hair was placed perfectly, well brushed and pulled back to fall below her shoulders. Steven liked it loose during sex. She wore high heeled spaghetti strap sandals, an olive skirt, and a very light beige sweater vest, which hinted at a lacy bra beneath. It was something she had worn on a night out with Steven. Alluring, but not trampy. "Do you have the...?" She cut his question short by handing him the audiotape. He looked delighted.
She followed Dr. Gilliam to his entertainment room. It included a pool table, a card table, a wide screen TV, two recliners, and a couch. There were two men seated at the card table, both good looking, which, frankly, disappointed her. She was hoping they would be ugly so that she could just hate them and the entire experience, rather than herself. They looked at her quizzically, however. Not the eyes of sex-starved maniacs. Late 30's, early 40's. Marriage rings.
"Gentlemen, this is the surprise I promised. Her name is Hayley." At least he didn't say my last name, she thought. "Remember the convention we went to in the Bahamas a few years ago?" They looked at her with more interest. "Hayley's not a hooker for the evening, though. She's married, and she's a patient. But she's also mine to fuck. And tonight, Hayley will perform just about anything we want her to." He grabbed her ass as he said this, giving her a good squeeze. At this, their eyes did turn to hunger, and she was surprised as a baritone emerged from the kitchen. "Well, hello there!" A black man, well... chocolate brown, maybe even a dark bronze,... walked in. He, too, was good looking. Muscular. Big. She was going to hate herself. Why was she doing this? She knew the answer before she even asked the question.
Dr. Gilliam led her to the kitchen, where he showed her around. Her first duties of the night would be to serve as a waitress to them as they played cards and watched a pre-season Friday night football game. She carried in a tray of beers and set them on the table, which had cutouts for holding drinks. She expected to be groped, and she was. As she leaned over placing the last beer, a man introduced himself as Mac, held her left tit between his hand and didn't let go. He said, "Richard, I seem to remember in Nassau that our...waitress...was topless. How does this work, do you tell her what to do or can we?"
"Hayley will only obey me, but I'll tell her do anything you want. She knows what this is about, and she came of her own free will. Didn't you Hayley?"
The Doctor had given her specific instructions on how she was to play her role. She died inside as she answered, but in a surprisingly eager voice. "You know I'm yours," she winked, and after a pause concluded, "to do with...whatever...you...want."
"Hayley, remove your top." Her face turned red as the men turned to watch. "And the bra." Dr. Gilliam had said that she was to perform, actually, to happily perform whatever he said. He had actually driven the role home when he had said that she should consider herself his tamed captive. Just like the book. And this was why she would hate herself, and had been hating herself all day. She could still hate him for what he was making her do, but she feared the guilt of enjoying herself even more. Her guilt began with the breeze tantalizing her skin when she arrived on his porch, when she realized she was already excited, already wet, already willing to fuck, without even putting up a fight.
So she turned her back to them, humiliation burning within, removed her bra, and then turned to give them a look at her tits. The excitement quenched her humiliation with an even stronger fire. They were staring at her breasts, the breasts of a captive slave who, truly, had no choice in the matter.
Dr. Gilliam soon took control as they began to move towards her. "Wait guys. Remember Nassau. Winner of the hand gets to suck her tits for a minute. Hayley, go get the Readi Whip." The term "whip" startled her, before she understood what he was asking. Whatever game they were playing was some variation of Poker. Mac won. She stood in front of him as he left his chair to get a better angle of attacking her tits. The good doctor handed Mac the can of Readi Whip, which Mac sprayed onto each of her nipples. Her nipples were already hard. The Readi Whip was just...cold. Mac licked around her breast before closing in on her nipple. She saw the desire in the men's eyes, and then her cunt went crazy on her as Mac seemed to swallow the front half of her other breast at once. Her juices were flowing.
Dr. Gilliam took control again. "That's good, Mac. I think she's hot already. Hayley, there's a jar of cherries in the refrigerator. Bring them here, and return, let's see...how was it? Oh, yes. Return only wearing your shoes." The other men had grins, obviously having done this before. "You guys know what the next hand wins." There was a tense laughter that followed her.
Safe in the kitchen, she stopped a moment to catch her breath. This was it. She was about to be gang-banged. From a steady diet of her husband the past 15 years or so, to two trysts with the Doctor, one unbeknownst to her and the other a quickie after he confronted her with the web site. He had enjoyed it, not just physically, she knew, but due to the power of breaking her will, making her decide, or rather admit, then and there that she was trapped. His to use. Yes, he had enjoyed the power, the power of stripping her as she trembled before him, the power of making her beg to fuck him, the power of making her get on her knees, spread her cunt lips, and guide his shaft within her. The power of making her a slut. Of her own will.
Did it really matter in the great scheme of things that she would be fucked yet again? Not if Steven never found out. That was her goal. Steven must never find out. She found the cherries. She saw chocolate syrup on the same shelf. She hoped that wouldn't be next. What a mess that would make. She closed the refrigerator door.
She looked down. Her naked breasts hung there, as they always had. The sight of her breasts had never meant anything to her sexually, but the fact that another man, a stranger, had sucked them, that others would, ...turned her on. She removed her skirt and then her panties. Soaked. They would find her...wet...so, wet.
She returned to the entertainment room, all eyes on her. Why was the football game still on? She would be the entertainment. She felt wetness trickle down her thigh as she walked. She hadn't thought about the effect her hairless cunt would have on them. Catcalls. The doctor waved for her to stand beside him. He took the jar of cherries from her, and gave them to the black man, whose name she didn't know. The men stood, and the Doctor placed a heavy cover that fit over the card table. The card game, she knew, was over.
Dr. Gilliam said, "Anyone done this since Nassau?" They all shook their heads, no. "I liked it so much I put that portrait with the hooker on my desk at work for the fond memory." They all laughed.
The black man had apparently won the round. He came around the table, put the cherries down, and grabbed her pelvis with both massive hands. He lifted her up onto the table, where she quickly understood she was to spread her legs. He reached for the cherries. Long stems.
"Man, she's wet! Did you see how that slid in there?" Hayley felt two more pushed in, the last of which he apparently controlled by holding the stem. He lowered his face, biting the stem, and pulled the cherry out of her cunt. He ate it. The doctor said what she hoped the black man was thinking, "Sweet." A black man hardly touching her, and she was ready to be fucked. The man inserted a finger, then another, easily into her cunt. He found her G-spot, but she was distracted by the remaining two cherries being moved about within her. He removed his hand, holding the two stems. She was certain the other two cherries were crushed inside her cunt. He lowered his head, this time using his tongue.
It felt so different. He wasn't trying at all to turn her on, but concentrated on lapping her juices to his content. And the cherry juices... of, course. He emerged from between her legs with a huge smile on his face. "Man, two years. That was good." A short conversation indicated that no one had been able to talk their wives into doing that, and Hayley settled herself in for turns. The bottle of cherries gradually became empty. She smelled the cherry juice as much as the smell of her sex. Mac was last and seemed to take breaks from his snack to actually give her a little pleasure, more than a little. In return, she responded by moving her hips, guiding his tongue, his face, to maximize her pleasure.
Her bucking was misunderstood. The fourth man, Keith, said "Look at her, she wants to get fucked! Richard, how did you find this slut? And she's married?" Hayley knew Steven wasn't the only married man whose sex life had settled down. And the word, "slut." She didn't want to think about a proper definition, but yes, she felt it. She was a slut, for the weekend, at least. And he was right. She did want to be fucked. She even enjoyed the idea of besting his wife, a woman she would never meet, in giving him a thrill.
Following the last instruction the Doctor had given her role for the evening, for just this moment, when sex was inevitable, Hayley said, "Please, Doctor, would you let them fuck me now?"
The words reminded her that she was HIS captive, and it reminded the men that she was HIS sex slave. Her fantasy again. She wanted to be filled with cock. What was he waiting for?
The doctor responded by removing his pants. He was the last to do so. The others had been stroking themselves, although she hadn't been able to watch. She didn't remember actually seeing the doctor's cock, other than watching the video in his office. It had seemed large then, and it had felt large within her, but as she saw him approach, she marveled at its size. Maybe two inches longer than Steven, and just as thick. He slid the head in, her lips spreading to accommodate him. He felt wonderful. He backed up slightly, then thrust forward, filling her. The words "ooohhh, yessss" escaped from her lips before she could even think of controlling herself. The doctor thrust in again, staring into her eyes, knowing he had her. And he would be right. The bastard.
A marvelously dark cock slapped onto her cheek. She turned her head, and took it in. The pre-cum was quickly devoured, and she quickly adapted to the novelty of a new cock, a new shape, a new texture, a new taste. Her hand grabbed at his balls, so large, hanging from his shaft. His cock was about the same size as her husband, and just as she was realizing a little disappointment from the stereotype of a black man's cock, the Doctor's pace picked up in her cunt, and she could feel his hot jism shooting within her. She returned her attentions to the sucking the cock at her mouth when Mac began to fuck her, building up speed. She wanted to have him cum with another man's cock in her mouth. Two at once... She grasped the black shaft with her hand, stroking it while she sucked and licked the head of his cock. The shaft felt smaller than Steven's did, but the head was so big. Just as Mac blasted within her, she could feel the cock in her hand pulse, then cum shot in her mouth and on her face. It didn't seem to end. She reached to her face to unclog her nose, and felt his cum just...everywhere.
He stepped back, a dominating presence, a masterful expression. "Man, that white bitch can suck!" He returned to stroking his cock, preparing to give her more. Mac stepped up with his limp cock, which she sucked, tasting the mixture of juices. She didn't particularly like it, but she liked the idea of what it was. She felt Keith slip within her, not much of a presence to whatever cock he had, but it felt good for her cunt to be filled. Mac recovered surprisingly quickly, as she felt the hardness of his shaft with her hand, the velvety mushroom head between her lips. She heard Keith say, "Hayley, you are one...hot...slut!" She felt him shoot, but less so as he pulled out to spray her hairless pubic area. Perhaps at the sight of this man cumming on her, Mac orgasmed again, pulling out of her mouth and cumming on her face. Her eyes were covered with cum. She was afraid to open them, and began to move the globs of jism from her face with her fingers.
The Doctor surprised her by placing a couch pillow under her head, giving her a view just as the black man penetrated her. The doctor's head was somewhat in the way as he too watched, while fondling and licking a breast. The black man's cock was pitch black, so much darker than the rest of his skin, and the sight of it going in and out of her white, cum covered cunt would be a memory to relive. She felt kind of stretched, and his cock didn't feel as good as it might another time, but she felt his huge balls slapping against her ass.
She reached down with a hand to work her clit. Catcalls again. Her body tensed. She heard voices, "what a hot bitch...who's married to that?...who cares? She fucks better than that pro in Nassau...better looking, too...I'd like to have that piece of ass every night" It all went somehow to her head. She closed her eyes, concentrating on the moment. The cock within her, the balls slapping against her, the doctor's manipulation of her nipple, the pleasure she was giving her clit. The satisfaction of satisfying 4 men, who appreciated her for nothing other than the sex she was giving. The fact that she was conquered, and the thrill of enjoying it. Her body shook as the orgasms washed over her, wave after wave. She had never, ever, experienced such an orgasm.
She opened her eyes as the black man withdrew from her cunt. He came just as her orgasm was subsiding. His cum shot a long steady stream, over her stomach, onto the Doctor's face, who was still licking her tit. The bastard deserved it, and he obviously wasn't pleased. Fuck him.
There seemed to be a break in the action - the men putting on their pants, at least, and talking about what they had just done. She laid there, resting a while, before the Doctor said, "The rule is you're not allowed to clean yourself off until we're all done. Now go get us some beers. She passed a mirror on the way to the kitchen. "Slut" was the word that came to mind. "Whore" might have fit, but this wasn't for money.
She thought that might be it for the night. Hoped it would be. Hoped it wouldn't be. Her cunt would be sore if they fucked her much more, but she hoped they would. Her nipple was sore where the good doctor had sucked at it and pinched it with his teeth. She knew that the next day would be more of the same, and possibly much of Sunday. She tried to imagine the life ahead of her, married by night, slut by day. She didn't trust the doctor to use her wisely, either. If these men liked having their picture taken with a hooker in Nassau, she couldn't help but suspect the good Doctor would give them digital pictures of her. She felt sad for herself, as she thought of the unknown number of men that the Doctor would share her with. Over what? Weeks? Months? Years? Until he tired of her and ruined her? She had no way out. None. Murder? She couldn't see herself doing it. Plus there was too much evidence against her. The captured damsel in her novel got out of captivity by falling in love with her captor, and making fall in love with her. She didn't see that happening here. She was captured. And useful for fucking. She hadn't imagined this particular end. The story always ended happily. She felt a tear form in her eye as she realized that she had been happy, just moments before, being useful for fucking.
The beer seemed to flow, particularly for the Doctor. They watched football while she laid across their laps, pawing at her, sucking at her. They used her cunt for "flavoring" each long neck bottle they opened. They all but drank beer from her cunt. She lost count of the blowjobs she gave. They seemed to run out of cum, but they enjoyed having her to look at while she sucked them anyway. She tired of it, but the variety in sizes, tastes, responses to her touch, somehow continued to keep her...wet.
Near the end of the football game, the Doctor had put on the radio and told her to dance. It might have been better if she could have done a strip tease, but all she had was her heeled shoes. She had danced well, and, she thought, provocatively. She had never seen a stripper, but she couldn't imagine anyone could provide a more explicit show. Some of it had been at the Doctor's direction, such as removing cum from her cunt and licking it off her finger. She did it. Some was at her own initiative. After bending over and giving them a few of her ass, someone had said, "There's still cum dripping out of there." She fixed that by scooping it out with her hands and spreading it on her tits. Then she licked it off her tits, cum, with a flavor of Molson. There was no shyness, if there ever had been.
The game ended, and the Doctor's guests had to head home soon. Their wives expected them. He led her to his couch, and had her bend over. Each of the men fucked her a last time. By the third, it began to hurt. By the fourth, it did. The Doctor whispered an instruction, and she escorted them to the door, inviting them back Saturday at any time, if they could make it. They all would. Of course. There might be other friends who would come, too. She was scared of the physical toll on her body that would bring, but the praise they had given her would make it worthwhile. She was known as a great fuck, and would be known by others. They each took a farewell grope, except for Mac, who gave her a kiss on the cheek. Her first kiss of the night.
She was now alone with the Doctor, which scared her. They hadn't been mean or cruel to her, but she knew he would be. While the men were watching football, and she was sucking Mr. Anonymous' cock, the men had asked the Doctor how he had found Hayley. He didn't really answer, but just said it was a power he had over women. He concluded with the thought that he might even send her home on Sunday full of cum, just after her husband returned from his weekend trip. Hayley had almost slipped into guilt, but someone had found her G-spot, and she had found it easier to suck and enjoy.
But now the guilt was sinking in. With the men gone, so had the main attraction of this reality. Only the bastard remained. The Doctor changed the channel to the news, and she sucked his cock while he finished his beer. He wasn't soft. He wasn't hard. His cock was worn out. But still, she licked and sucked, thinking, hoping, that some sort of opportunity might present itself.
The news ended, and the Doctor led her to the bedroom, where he used handcuffs to secure one wrist to one of the front corner feet on his bed. He showered, then returned and crawled into bed. The lack of civility in not even allowing her to shower infuriated her. And why had he handcuffed her? He knew she would stay for the weekend. He had her. She was his slut.
But there had to be a reason... and the only reason that she could think of was not that she would leave, but that she would find something! He had given her a pillow and a blanket, at least, but with her hand cuffed it was too awkward to lie comfortably. She looked at the cuffs. There was no way of breaking them, or getting her hands out. She had no idea where the key was. She assessed the situation.
It finally came to her. The Doctor was indeed drunk. Had any picked any of the rails of the footboard, she would trapped. Maybe he thought that the other rails would be too high for her to be comfortable enough to sleep. What a kind bastard.
She heard the doctor snore. She decided that if this idea worked, she would need to see a Chiropractor. That almost made her laugh. She snaked her body under the bed, and managed to move the pillow between her back and the bed frame. Using her elbows and back, she tried to lift the bed frame, and, specifically, the foot of the bed, off the floor. The bed was king size and terribly heavy, but it didn't take too long before she found the right position that she thought would make it work. The Doctor was still snoring, and she hoped this last effort wouldn't wake him. She raised her back, and the bed lifted. The handcuff slipped off the bottom of the post.
Now, to use the opportunity. If it failed, she was probably ruined for life. But there was hope. She hoped he was a heavy sleeper, because she felt her best odds were to start in his bedroom. He had left the bathroom light on, which gave enough light for her to see, but barely. There was also a small nightlight on a wall receptacle. Maybe the bastard had nightmares in the dark... She found the handcuff key first, on top of the bedside table. That helped. She found a pistol in a drawer. She knew a little about revolvers and saw that it was loaded. She figured out where the safety device was. It was on. She turned it off. She didn't plan to use it, but it might just be helpful...
She was searching for this famed hypnotic video, figuring he would be a fool not to keep one at home. Had he used it on his wife? She didn't pursue the train of thought. She didn't find it in his bedroom. She went to the entertainment room, as it had a VCR. Maybe he kept it handy for dates, the bastard. She opened the cabinet door, and there it was. At least, she hoped that was it. The title seemed familiar. Watching it would get her into a mess, so she just trusted that it was the right one. If it wasn't, maybe the gun would be an adequate persuasion tool. And she did have the handcuffs... She saw that another video was in the VCR. It had her name on it. She turned the TV on, muted it, and played the video. It was the video the doctor had taken of her being fucked in his office. Since he was such a camera freak, she looked around the entertainment room to make sure her new life as a slut hadn't been recorded. She didn't see anything that looked like a camera.
She disappointed to find that her blouse and bra seemed to have disappeared. Maybe someone took it as a souvenir. She found her skirt on the kitchen floor. The panties were gone. Something was better than nothing.
She returned to his bedroom, turned the VCR on, and inserted the tape. She quickly hit "stop" before it would automatically play. Then she turned the TV on. This hypnotic thing apparently worked visually, since the audiotape didn't seem to have an effect. She turned the volume down. The TV cast a blue glow over the room and his sleeping form. She thought briefly about how she was going to manage this. Then, it was time for sleepy boy to wake up.
She went to the bathroom, poured a cup of water, returned, and dumped it on his face. He became somewhat alert, and then alarmed as she turned the bedside lamp on. He found himself staring at the barrel of his own .357 magnum, being held by the otherwise enticing topless form of what had been his willing sex kitten hours earlier. He started to raise himself and say something, but she drew back the hammer. He retreated to his pillow.
"You, bastard, are going to watch a video. If I have to shoot you, I'll be embarrassed when the police find pictures and videos of me naked. But there's enough evidence that the police will believe my story about the pervert qwack doctor, especially since I'll be telling them the truth. So it's your choice. Die, or watch the screen." He nodded toward the screen. She stepped back so that she was aside the TV, where she could make sure he kept his eyes glued to the screen. The TV was less than 10' from the bed, and there was no way she could miss if she had to shoot. With six shots, anyway. She started the VCR, and he watched.
Hayley did what her idiot, but loving, husband should have done. She found out everything. After a few commands, they started taking care of things. All the hypnotic videos in the house were found. All the photos of his patients in the house were found. He logged onto the internet and destroyed the website he had created. The counter had read 1,880. Damn. He must have registered it, but there was nothing to be done about the files people may have copied. They went to the computer where the files were stored. She reformatted the entire drive. There were no other copies except at the office.
So, they would have to drive to the office. She had to wear one of his shirts, and found her shoes. Sleepy boy would have to stay in his pajamas. At the office another hard drive was re-
formatted, photos were handed over, and videos were gathered. She piled it all into a suitcase she had brought from his house. There were no other copies of anything related to his hypnotic controls that she didn't possess. IF he was telling the truth. He seemed to be giving her all she had asked for. But Steven had been satisfied too.
They returned to his house, where all was quiet, as it should be at 4:00 a.m. She gave him a final suggestion, that she had very much enjoyed plotting during the return drive, tucked him into bed, and counted him to sleep, "one, two, three."
Her drive home was one of self-congratulations and, she admitted, fulfillment. It had been fun. Not her choice, but it had been fun. The men had had their fun, too, but it had been about as gentlemanly as a gang-bang could get, she supposed. Her reverie was interrupted when she was pulled over by a police car. Speeding. 12 miles over.
The officer looked her over, probing her face and body with his flashlight, then the interior of the van. She was glad he didn't look too far down her legs. She hadn't cleaned those up, and she was a sticky mess. She realized that the man's shirt she was wearing and the suitcase would tell him all he needed to know - that she had slept with a man and was returning home. It was unlikely he would suspect her of anything else, driving in a family van as she was. The man, whose face she could never make out, let her off with a warning.
Saturday, she made a fire in the backyard. Her romance novel was first. She had lived that and beyond. The photos the Doctor took were interesting. She was comforted that her sister was not among them. Some of the people she knew; most she didn't. She burned them all. The videos she also threw in. The noxious fumes of burning plastic drove her away from the fire, but she had to return to dump in one other tape.
The video of the Doctor fucking her really turned her on. She had watched it several times that afternoon, cumming each time she watched it. If the video had included all four men, she would have kept it, somewhere. But the video was too dangerous to keep around the house. Steven must never know.
During the evening, she deprogrammed herself. She had to, before Steven's return on Sunday. Her emotions competed with her logic, which competed with her cunt. She imagined the men showing up at the Doctors house, ready to fuck her. Her motions told her to feel guilty for having enjoyed it. Her cunt told her to go back, live a little more, and conclude the night with a commemorative video. Her logic said, simply, "No." Too much potential for disease, pregnancy, physical harm. It was safe now. The men would have asked for Hayley, and the Doctor wouldn't remember who she was. IF the video had worked. She would know by a few days. Her cunt hadn't given up the fight easily, though. She had never before masturbated so much in a single day.
Sunday was good. Sex with her husband would be her focus for the day. She worked on her tan, wearing a small white bikini. She had never worn it except when modeling it for Steven, who had bought it. It became transparent when wet. She thought of a special party for Steven's return, and settled on a rather simple greeting. He had enjoyed the garage scene so much, she decided to welcome him there. Nude. Covered with baby oil, everywhere except her tits and her cunt. She imagined a bucket of confetti emptying on her as he drove in... Her cunt said maybe he would bring friends. Stop it!
She heard a noise to her side, and through the edge of her dark sunglasses, became aware that her neighbor was watching her. She didn't move her head, but she was quite hot, and perspiring. And she could only imagine that her bikini was now see-thru. Minor amounts of appreciation were good, she thought. Steven could, and would, appreciate her more. How different she was...

Steven returned from his fishing trip to find all well at home. The garage surprise made him fearful the Doctor was still a problem, but Hayley truly lived the moment. A messy moment. Talking, hugging, appreciating him, encouraging him. Somehow, he knew it was all "her." No mind games. Hayley seemed in good spirits, and she grilled a steak to celebrate his return. He enjoyed the trip away, but had been worried whether his dealings with the Dr. Gilliam were truly over. He thought he had handled it pretty well. And while the photos of Dr. Gilliam's wife were great, it was the pictures of his wife's tits that he had looked at while he jerked off in the cabin.
Two days later, his worries went away. He showed the newspaper article to Hayley, who had the most unusual grin on her face. Humored? Sickened? Not surprised, at the least. Maybe her instincts had told her something wasn't right with the man. She was very insightful about people. In any case, the doctor had been arrested for multiple counts of public indecency. Maybe taking his videos away had caused the doctor to go nuts. Going to retirement homes and exposing himself to old ladies. Imagine that.
All seemed right with the world. He poured himself a Coke and headed for the den, where Hayley was waiting to show him some movie she had gotten over the weekend.

E-mail to: OneIdleHand@hotmail.com
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