Smith, I was a slut and his wife was a whore. “Fuck my mouth, Mr. Smith,” I said. Mr. Smith was always acting a little soft towards me than his ...ife. He always fucked his wife so hard, spanked her ass and fucked her mouth, but with me, he never got so rough. “You want me to fuck your mouth, huh?” Mr. Smith got up from the couch. He grabbed my head and I opened my mouth wide. He pushed his cock deep in my throat and fucked my mouth. My eyes got wet and he let me breath. He again dropped his. ..” He pulled out his wallet from his back pocket. “$43 on me!” He yanked out a bundle of crumbled bills, holding them out to me.“Do these tits look like they’re worth so little?” I asked, putting all the offense into my tone as I could. I hefted them, feeling how soft they were in my hands as I cradled them before his face. I jiggled them. “You can do better.”“I have another $170 in my PayPal account,” he groaned.I knew about PayPal. Sort of. Both my sons had accounts to buy stuff on the. Amy was the closest reminder he had to his late wife Kirstin. It had been also six years since they had lost her in a car accident and he still missed her every day. Amy was growing up to be more and more like her mother with every passing year. The similarities were stinging at times.Spencer and Amy had left Washington D.C. where he had worked as a lobbyist and moved to upstate New York. Despite being a senior partner in his firm, the capital remined them too much of Kirstin and their previous. "Hello, Rose," she said still smiling."Hello, I stopped by Helen's and brought you this," I said handing her the banana pudding she had requested."Very good, Jeremy is outside grilling," she said."Oh really, what's for dinner?" I asked."Grilled pork loin and baked potatoes are this weeks special," she said and smiled. "I hope you like them." I have no religious objections, so damn right I do," I said."Good, we kind of thought with that beautiful blond hair you weren't Muslim or anything. Of.