..” I mumbled, tears in my voice. “I’m sorry, honey...” I staggered out the door and to my room, and threw myself on my bed. I was sorry. I di...n’t know what I was sorry for, for what we did, what I allowed, or for ending it. I just laid there, in confusion, and cried.I heard him enter the room, and felt him sit on the side of the bed. I snuffled and sniffed, and finally raised up. I just looked at him, and melted again. Before I knew it I was in his arms, and he held me as I cried some. He carried two automatic pistols in a "shoulder" harness like a Wild West desperado. His "hands" were his beaks, which were not rigid; they were mobile muscle tissue like a tongue, but much stronger and tougher. This was both advantageous and disadvantageous, since his eyes were virtually a part of his hands. With binocular vision at each hand, he could manipulate things with surprising precision.His brain was buried deep within his body, so a blow on the "head" would not knock Shoosh. That threw me over the edge again as my body was wracked by another powerful orgasm. “Ohhhhh fuck. I’m….oooo oooo,” I moaned as the power of his cock overcame me. Zach began to jackhammer my pussy like this was his last fuck of his young life. I had never had anyone make love to me like this before and I couldn’t stop cumming as his powerful cock kept slamming into me. Jamie had his cock back in my mouth now and, with his hands full of my blonde hair, he was thrusting his cock deep into my. I asked the guy at the counter the next time I went in, and he said they’d put my paintings up for a 50 percent commission, since it was typically pretty slow in the tourist off-season and a lot of their regular artists didn’t bother selling anything. Even if I didn’t make any money off of it, it would be a good way to explain to my parents the money I was getting from prostituting myself to Benjie, and I could put it on college applications.The other idea was to use painting as an excuse to.