Looking at the clock she saw he wouldn't be here for another half hour which was maybe a good thing, cuz she was pretty shitfaced right now and could ...se a moment to get her bearings. Flopping onto the couch in her panties and tank top, Carmella thought about how, despite the absurdity of it, she absolutely wanted this and badly. Carmella was a visual artist. A painter. Her sister majored in business but when Carmella's career took off first, her sister became her manager as well as her best. The box is for Troy, he can open it after we talk.”“And I suppose some Best Buy cashier is out of a job for letting you walk out with it.”“Nonsense! Paid cash in full,” she said, waving the receipt in front of the screen so Julie could see it, holding her thumb over the price. “I don’t have to do things like that anymore if I don’t want to, and I wouldn’t skimp for my oldest, dearest friends on their special day. Now, be a peach and take me over to the other couch. I can barely hear you over. He agrees without hesitation and suggests dinner as still an option. We meet up the next night at a restaurant and eat together. Ever the gentleman, he opens all my doors. Dinner goes smoothly as he asks more about my job, and we talk about his work. At least, what we didn’t get to last time we spoke. It was nice having an astute conversation with someone about their perception of gouache versus impasto painting techniques. And not once did we bring up the sex. Ethan still gnawed at my. A guard then turned on a high pressure hose and proceeded to hose me down with cold water as if he was cleaning out a pig sty: The water pressure was, in itself, painful enough, but even more so when it came in contact with the bruises on my tits and arse. Then the inevitable happened, the jet of water was directed into my over fucked and sore cunt, I wriggled about but to no avail, the freezing water burst within me, hit my womb and rushed back out again, the same was then done to my arse.
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