B. Please, Allen, tell me?"He slumped heavily on the bed, pushing his face into his hands."I can't, Gwen. I can't. I don't know myself. I don't know why I keep thinking about it." About what?" Her voice was timid and shaky. She still remembered the pain when he had hit her that night, and instinctively reached up to touch the aching bruise."I don't want to talk about it, Gwen. A man has to work some things out for himself. Don't you understand? Are all women bitches? Nosy, sniveling bitches?"He faced her, his hands balling at his sides, his eyes burning."Women," he spat. "All you think about is killing. Vicious little cunts attacking a man, ripping him to pieces with needling questions, prying into his private life. Leave me alone, Goddamnit. Leave me alone!"Her hand shaking, Gwen turned the light off and waited for him to continue his pacing. She felt the bed sag and his hand press against her leg. He was mumbling something she couldn't understand as he crawled up on top of her and. I noticed at one point, Inge’s hand kept disappearing under the table and Dieter kept smirking. Curiosity getting the better of me, I dropped my napkin and peeked under the table. Inge’s hand was wrapped around Dieter’s exposed cock, slowly stroking it. I also saw Dieter’s hand cupping the crotch of Inge’s shorts. Emerging from my napkin rescue mission, I saw both of them smiling. I’d been busted! I blushed. Unfazed at being caught, Dieter said, in slightly accented but otherwise perfect English, “We like to enjoy each other as much as possible. We also like the danger aspect of being caught. It makes it more exciting for us.” Then he raised the hand from her crotch and fed her his middle finger, visibly damp from his under the table adventure. The conversation turned to sex very quickly, covering likes, dislikes, kinks and experiences. Finally, Inge asked me, “Would you like to party with us? We like to swing and enjoy other people as well as each other.” I turned to Karen,.
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