And her competitive edge?

Ah, but some of those other girls-those who had sizzled their insides with steroids and injections of other magical pharmaceutical elixirs-had wound up with no tits at all. Their adolescence denied, hormonal balance disturbed.

They too had ultimately dissolved their hopes, their dreams of greatness in the annals of gymnastics competition.

And were left sexually devastated.

Little-girl bodies.

Little-girl minds.

Forever warped.

Many of them had then gone into coaching-and had thus become debauchers of their own sex.

Hard-as-nails dykes.

Drenching their lives with the juices of their remorseless, ravening depravity.

Devoted to the corruption of others desires. For their mutated bodies.

Yes, those young women had made what they had believed were the requisite sacrifices for the furtherance of their athletic careers.

And now they continued their devotions to bodies of their own kind.

Well, Noreen was different.

And where the fuck was Slash?

"I wanted you to suck my pussy," Desiree said to Slash. "Then I was gonna blow yuh. Or maybe I woulda done that first."

Slash closed the door to the restroom behind him. He snapped open his pants.

"But now," Desiree said with her tongue hanging out over her jawline, "I think nothing less than a full-fledged fuck would do."

"You're right," he said.

His fingers twanged down his fly.

Briefs snapped down.

Cock flipped out and up.

"Yum," Desiree said.

Slicked her lips with a roll of her trim and tapered tongue.

Slash observed how she sat on the commode. Skirt hiked up past her hips.

Blouse opened down to her waist. Tits stuck up from the cups of the brassiere.

Nipples a throb.

Slash took his twanger between thumb and forefinger. Ran his digits down the length of the shank of cockmeat.