... Over the last month, Sarah had spent many evenings in bed wearing ever-larger syringe cases in her crotch while she read the books the doctor had suggested; there were a few evenings where she'd even ended up mastrubating, usually after she'd read something she found particularly exciting. Now, as she rode with David, she felt that she was reasonably well prepared. "Here we are!" David said after thirty or so miles of driving; the last ten miles had been over secondary roads, and the final two miles were unpaved. He pulled into a driveway that opened between two cornfields, then drove up a small hill. At the top was a classic midwestern Victorian farmhouse with a big porch and a tower with a weather vane on top ...
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