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RIDING ROOM SAFETY Finally, we were shown into the "riding room"--a teeny boudoir containing the Sybian, an alarm clock on a small table, and literally nothing else. "Oh, actually I do have an IUD," I admitted, thinking for a moment, with a mixture of relief and disappointment, that I was off the hook. "You can just cross that line out and write, "I do have an IUD, then initial it." "Uh... This also made me think there could be any number of realistic dangers that he didn't know of.No velvet curtains, stereo, oils--nothing to create an even remotely sexy atmosphere... But since I couldn't think of any either, I said, "fuck it" and signed away.

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This prospect was even more horrifying than going it alone, as I wracked my brains to think of someone I would be comfortable with--and who would be willing or interested in sharing this extremely intimate moment.

As fate would have it, the very next email I received was from my dear, kind, open-minded, trusted, and unabashedly perverted friend Bobby.

We entered the cottage, a very small, barely furnished house.

We sat down on a couch, so George could explain a bit about the salon...

In order to prove the strength of his machine, George asked me to grab it and try to prevent its spinning. After some muffled giggles and panicky whispers (and some fake louder giggles to pacify George), I took off my panties.

I was a little taken aback, and put my hand on it loosely. To top everything off, I'd forgotten to bring lube, but luckily found some facial moisturizer in my makeup bag. I mounted the thing, and gingerly began testing the controls, keeping myself lifted up somewhat, nervous about relaxing onto it totally, especially with Bobby making cracks about it electrocuting my IUD.

unless you count the scary calisthenics-like chart of different Sybian positions hanging on the wall. " Blushing and confused, I admitted that "no, I couldn't stop it"--and I wanted to cry. There was one last warning before we began: George assured us he would be right outside "banging away" at his computer keyboard, that no one around would know or hear anything, and in no way could we do anything in there that was going to shock him. The only thing that would make him curious was silence.

As George began demonstrating the functions of the controls, the dickless dick (the big screw that the dildo attaches to) began to spiral around in circles. Next came the signing of the waiver, relinquishing the salon from any fault if I were to incur injury (emotional or physical). After all, how did he know he wouldn't open the door and find two dead bodies who had perished from... SHE SHOOTS, SHE SCORES So there we were, stuck in this tiny, sterile room, guarded by a stranger in an eye patch who was threatening to come in if he didn't hear us "making noise." I had just possibly signed away my uterus, and I was somehow supposed to ride this monstrosity to the point of getting off??!! As soon as the door closed, Bobby and I mouthed silent "Oh my gods" to each other.

During negotiations with George, wherein I arranged to try out the Sybian and report on the experience, several things came to light.

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