On the day the Vice President came to the Pentagon, we had it locked down, swept continuously and guarded beyond anything we had previously seen. My p...ople were all over the building insuring our privacy. When I handed over the written and photographic evidence of the crimes we could prove without breaking a sweat, the Vice President opened each folder, studied each paragraph and photograph, read every margin note, and absorbed it all without comment.Maybe he had seen it all too many. It would never have happened if you–”“Yes, I know,” he interrupted, testily. “I wanted the experience. Well, I had it, and enjoyed it until you started wanting her to stay longer and longer.”I wasn’t gong to let that distortion of the truth stand.“Gary,” I snapped, “No one wanted any of this but you. You are the cause of this. Don’t try loading any of this on me. If she asked me to stay longer, do more, I agreed. If she wanted to go home, I took her home. She called the shots, and I assumed so. Most of the site was devoted to softcore images of vapid-looking naked girls with surgically enhanced breasts. A real intellectual, our Mr Renfrew.He also had his own web page where he rambled on about his philosophy and the need for freedom of the Press. It didn't tell us a thing as to why he should be involved but his name was on the list. Charles Brownlock, MP had a strident site. It was full of the usual politicians' rubbish but with the slant of always portraying Charlie Boy in the best. Ethan drove back to his shop and retrieved Bonnie's ticket, jotting down her address, and returning to the car. As he got in, he said, "well she only lives a few miles away." Robert nodded, still watching the video of Ethan fucking Bonnie, "wow you even got to poke her in the butt." Ethan smiled wide as he drove down the street.Robert watched the video to the end, as Ethan drove down the street. "Oh my god, she let you cum in her ass?" Robert exclaimed, shutting the camera off. Ethan looked at.