”“I’m on the London Eye.”“What? Why?”“Fancied a day in London. Hey, Bobby, you’ll never guess who I met on the train.”“Who?”“D... you remember that brunette in Ladz a couple of weeks ago that looked a bit like Buffy the Vampire Slayer?”“I think so. Nice tits, if I remember. But then, don’t they always?”“Sure. Well, she opposite me on the way up here.”“You’re joking? You sure it was her?”“Positive. I knew I’d seen her before, but couldn’t place her. So I asked her when we got in. She told me who. Who was paying the tab? The US government certainly wasn't paying for common soldiers to live in a hotel! This was worth investigating. Caleb was pretty good friends with Henry Ackerman, who ran the hotel. Maybe he was worth talking to about who payed the bill.That evening after supper time, but before Henry would have gone to bed, Caleb knocked at his door. "Henry, open up. It's Caleb Jackson. I need ta talk ta ya without rousing the whole town."Henry opened the door and said, "Come in, Caleb.. “I want you to fuck me, Comte.” “Ah, you have finally awoken from your long sleep, pet. May I have the pleasure of hearing you ask once more?” “I… want you to fuck me.” “I warn you, love. I have… peculiar tastes. If I were to agree to do such a thing, it would have to be on my terms. “ “Such as?” “A party such as you have never seen before, with you as the center of attention and made available to my guests as well as myself. You will be their plaything, their quarry in a most unusual. I saw how she fingered her little button intensely with two fingers. “Come on, dear,” I encouraged her, “finger your sweet pussy. Show me how you come.”She looked at me, breathing heavily, her fingers dancing over her pussy. She was clearly not shy about fingering herself anymore, shaking as her fingers rubbed faster and faster, until she was going over the edge.“Ooooooh, yes. Oh, this is ..... aaaaah!!”I looked as her first orgasm raged thru her body. She convulsed in her chair and closed her.