I pulled up a seat at the end of the row, and peered into the main floor. It was dimly lit and the corners were almost black. Being that it was Friday... the interior was crowded with people - guys and gals - seated around the tables. Conversations were buzzing under the blasting music.I ordered a beer and began to look around and see if there was anyone I knew, or might want to get to know.After a few songs a woman her late 30's approached me and asked me if I would dance with her."Sure" I. --- Morning gave way to afternoon, the sun was high when the drugs had finally burned through her system but the damage had been done. Melony had been mentally broken by her captors, reduced to this drooling cock sleeve that only came alive when a horse cock was rutting inside her.A centaur was mounted over her then and was brutally thumping his mighty cock head against her bruised cervix. She went stiff with every buck of his hips, whimpering and groaning from this bout of internal abuse, yet. “Logan. You’re white. The number is actually closer to 2.5%, which is just as much Neanderthal you have as well. Even if you were black we have a seperate sister company for that as well.”They must have a different company for each race. Makes sense… but does that make it less racist? Does it make it ok? How did she know those %s off the top of her head so quickly? She wasn’t just eye candly to make men mealt into a deal, she is smart and calculating. This made me more serious about this whole. Our youngest daughter is Miley and she is just four years old.They all take after their mother with long blonde hair and blue eyes,and tall and slim. I'm sure they will break hearts when there older.I have to admit thinking back that the twins are the ones that act theyoungest, always pushing my buttons trying to get under my skin. LittleMiley just plays with her dolls like the little girl she is, hopefullyshe wont grow up like her big sisters and be nagging about somethingalways.We always seem.