.. the one I had sworn never to show anyone - especially not Scott."Wow," he said. "I'd like to fuck that." Shit, man," I said, feeling a little light...headed. "This is my dream woman. Don't be talking like that about her!" Okay, but when you fuck her, I want to be able to hide and watch," he said, still drooling over his own mother. He had no clue."Right," I said. "Like I'll ever see her, or talk to her or anything." You can dream," he said, grinning."Which is why I've been acting squirrely," I. Okay?”He didn’t say anything, but his face twitched. Was that a smile? she wondered.Dessie knew that her husband particularly liked perch and crappie, so she washed the surface of the flat rock she had started using to clean her fish. She had a lightweight, folding cutting board that she used when mixing her biscuit dough, but the rock near the lake made dousing it with water easy when cleanup time came. Since her knife didn’t have a scaler on the back of the blade, and rather than contend with. "I think Henry would like to make me his slut," she purred, nodding at his cock as she spoke, which now jutted at full mast against my face. I moaned a low, deep, "mmmm hmmm," around his balls, nodding my head a little between his legs.I felt his hands on my head then, his voice whispering, "Enough for now, slut," as he disengaged my lips from around his sack. He stood then, reaching down to take me by my now fully-hard cock and lead me over to where Rita now stood. He reached to her as well,. I shocked myself because I was smiling as I was thinking about my situation. Blackmailed and used, I was in deep. I was certainly not able to report what happened to anyone. What was I going to say?I made my way downstairs to get something to eat. The taste in my mouth was awful. I had too much to drink, and the pot he made me smoke was terrible. When I sat at the table I noticed an envelope address to "The Slave of the House." I just sat there and ate while staring at it. I really wanted to.
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“Maybe I am seeing someone. You don’t know,” I lied. “What do you do? Stalk me?” I then cried with pain. “That hurt,” I whined. J
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