“I’m so screwed,” I muttered, sitting heavily on her bed.She put her book down and faced me. “What’s wrong?”“They took my film in to be developed,” I explained vaguely.“So? At least you don’t have to pay for it, then.”“No! There’s some shots on there that—” I spread my hands in front of me. “Of Heather ... Uh, you know?”Lara’s eyes widened and a grin started to blossom across her face. “Like, naughty pictures? And they found them?”“Yeah. Well, no. I mean, they don’t know what’s on them,” I sighed. “Not yet, anyway. But they took them in! Unless I hid them somewhere when we got back, but I don’t think so.”“Have you checked under your bed, where you keep your weed?”I gave her a patient look. “Yeah. Everywhere. I’m pretty sure they were still in the camera bag.”Lara let out a breath. “That was kind of dumb! How many times have I told you, you’re supposed to hide your porn under your bed!”“It wasn’t porn shots,” I said quickly.“Nudes?”I hesitated, then nodded sheepishly. I needed someone. Then, unexpectedly, it started buzzing gently. I was caught between these two powerful instruments of gentle sexual torture. I began to cry out, quietly at first, still aware of where I was, and then louder and louder as I began to lose any idea of decorum.Vanessa leaned back, picked up my discarded thong, looked at what a tiny scrap of cloth it was, and then dropped it and picked up her own panties from the floor. She balled them up and looked questioningly at me. I wasn't sure what she wanted for a moment – and then she pressed them to my lips. A gag! She wanted to gag me! But it made sense. We were in a tiny dorm room, on a hall with many other rooms, with insulation probably manufactured and installed fifty years ago. I nodded and opened my mouth to accept her offering.Having suitably silenced me, she returned to ministering to my pussy and ass. And I returned to screaming/wailing/thrashing. It wasn't long before I felt the familiar, but somehow new, approach of the shivering and.
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