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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.

And if I can get my rocks off under those conditions, then you will surely be able to do so in the comfort of your own home.

Maybe I'm a prude, but the only thing I really got out of the situation was pride in my ability to get off despite totally groady circumstances.

and this is when things started to get really weird.

After some perfunctory small talk, George abruptly blurts out, "Everybody wants to know about the patch!

The controls consist of two knobs: One controls its rotational capabilities, which are designed to stimulate the g-spot. You can buy these babies over the internet for a couple thou. I'LL DO ANYTHING Don't ask me why, but I'm the "go-to gal" around the office for all the sleaziest dares. So when someone found out about the Sybian Salon, I could hear the chorus of "We should make Marjorie try it" coming from clear across the office. The thought of being locked in a strange, empty room with a kinky machine was creepy--not to mention unerotic.