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"Billy looked down and seeing a six-inch plug in the side of the barrel, unscrewed it. Fresh air flooded the interior allowing Martha to breath. She lay still as she filled her lungs with air. Meanwhile, Billy stepped up to Martha's unclothed ass and placed his right hand on her bare cheeks. He started rubbing first one and then the other in turn. Moving back to the first he ran his hand over the fuzzy lips between the two cheeks. On doing so he felt a slickness deposited on his hand from her slit.Curious he brought his hand up to investigate. As he got it close to his face he noticed a peculiar musky scent. Bringing it up to his nose he inhaled deeply. He liked what that sniff brought to his senses and sniffed again. Then, in an inquisitive nature, he stuck out his tongue and tasted it.Billy liked that smell and taste. Returning his hand to the mound he ran it up and down the crack this time, collecting more of the juice on his palm. Bringing it immediately to his nose he inhaled and. She dared not blink. The dull ache between her legs was beginning to build and she was half-aware that her privates were beginning to become increasingly moist. Molly’s knees knocked together nervously under the desk and she sucked on her lower lip dreamily as she watched Daniel kiss her sister’s milky white belly for the third time. Annabel pushed on the boy’s head and within moments he was between her thighs. The girl lifted her bottom and pulled up the gingham dress around her middle, exposing her tight blue knickers. Annabel straightened her right leg, keeping her left bent at the knee as Daniel planted small kisses over the thin cotton gusset of her underwear. Molly looked down. Her own gingham dress was longer than her sisters, almost to her knees. Her hands were still clasped obediently in her lap. But … but the dull throbbing was getting harder and harder to ignore. As if hypnotised, Molly’s unblinking green eyes drifted back to the erotic scene unfolding on her monitor..
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I'm sitting in a classroom, staring out of the window at the building over the way. An old chapel, it belongs to the school. I imagine it over there, cool white stone would create the most beautiful echoes, amplify the smallest noises. A frieze on the wall facing me, man with a shield. Behind it, the clouds trudge, greyish like dirty wool, across a whiter sky.Claret tracks across my skin, no one notices the steady dripping.Between me and that little hallowed places stands a low fence and a small tree. The whole scene is quaint, steady and quiet. And here in this classroom all I can hear are the deafening thoughts of others over their voices, all oblivious to the blood falling from my fingers to the floor. I fear I may die and the last thing I shall hear is the boy in the seat next to me fantasizing about unlikely sex.The cuts do not hurt, the blood falling, falling... My life is draining out of me, my memories, my soul. I will end this lesson, an empty shell. I am a vessel for all.

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