” “Oh, sure,” I was stunned to hear Ernard say. “Of course you can fuck her.” He kissed me on the lips as I stood rooted in place. “See yo... at home, babe,” and then he just started jogging back home. “Ernard! Ernard, you useless asshole, get back here!” But he just turned and wave. “Have fun with your club, Vertise.” “You don't care this peckerwood want's to fuck your wife?” Ernard shouted back, confused, “Why would I? I hope you have a good time!” “Hey, Ernard,” the crazy peckerwood shouted.. Ashley was nearly in tears as she witnessed the pain on Mary-Kate’s face.“T.. t..take it out!” Mary-Kate screamed “God the pain! It hurts please take it out!”“Ashley, do you want to help Mary-Kate? Do you want to take away her pain?” I asked coaxingly.“Yes Master, what do you want me to do?” she said nodding concern for her sister written all over her face.“Do you remember last night? How did I take the pain away for you?” I asked.“You played with my pussy master” Ashley whispered realisation. He was the guy for me. Only, he refused to work on my car because it was a Pontiac and not an Oldsmobile. What’s the difference? They are both GM A cars. Then, there in the corner of his totally clean, eat off the floor garage, was a Malibu belonging to one of his monied customers. What the Hell is that? Malibu’s, Cutlasses, and Regals, all shared many of the same underpinnings as my Grand Am. I had convinced him to take me on as a customer, but only after I delivered my boss down to him with. "Mr. Oliver picked up his duffel bag, and the two of them stepped outside. He locked the door behind him, and walked with Timothy to his car. The old man graciously opened the passenger door, and then walked around and started the engine. As they drove, Mr. Oliver assured Timothy that he had nothing to worry about, and that he was under no obligation to do anything he did not feel comfortable with.After ten minutes or so, Mr. Oliver pulled up in the parking lot of a nondescript brick building,.