We soon weaken and the two-by-four teeters, pulling each up in turn and stretching our balls until they seemed about to be ripped out. We become competitors and then enemies, screaming at each other to hold still. We soon can't stand the sight of each other, of our pathetic, weak suffering selves.
“You guys look like Tarpons strung up to dry. Only you're getting wetter by the minute,” opined Friday.
“Come on, lower us a little.” My voice a pleading whine I'm ashamed of.
“No way, Jose. The second I do it, she'll come through the door and I'll be in the same position as you two. I got in trouble with her once and she was so cruel I've become the most obedient and productive sub you can imagine.”
The instability and pain increase as time passes and we weaken.
“Hold still you cocksucker
