And fucking. Wild animal stuff. Frenzied coupling like wanton goats. Quickies almost anywhere, with him worrying whether I managed an orgasm, me frequ...ntly hoping I hadn't screamed too loud.I loved it all. He could get me wet without even being there. I'd be sitting at my desk at work, preparing yet another set of damn papers, and I'd remember how he had licked me the night before, his tongue darting fast between my legs, resting for just the right amount of time, creeping closer like a snake,. And that over there is the den.’ He motioned toward the room that opened up past a bar counter. It was fully furnished with leather couches, and an ottoman, but looked unused. He took her hand and led her back to the main hall ‘There’s two bedrooms and a bathroom down here on this floor. Anne wanted babies. Yer daddy had the house built fer us.’ He then took her up the stairs, seeing she was going slow to take a look at the paintings and pictures on the walls. Anne had fixed the place up real. By then that her legs had been giving her pain, and as she heard her husband remind me where to strike, she said her blood ran cold, the first pussy stroke left a lasting impression, but the ones across her nipples caused her the most discomfort. Like a metronome she said those blows fell, Pete`s voice telling off the strokes in tens from about halfway through the session she had had small climaxes increasingly frequency as the strokes fell, first coming close to passing out after 70 strokes. The accountant says, “Before we begin, I’ll need to ask you a few questions.” “He gets her name, address, social security number, etc. and then asks, “What’s your occupation?” “I’m a Lady of the Night,” she says. The accountant is somewhat taken aback and says, “Let’s try to rephrase that.” “The woman says, “Ok, I’m a high-end call girl.” “No, that still won’t work. Try again.” “They both think for a minute; then the woman says, “I’m an elite chicken farmer.” The accountant asks, “What does.