Boats... I don't know what boats do, but I bet they're important, too! Anyway, all smashed, broken, trampled, and whatever verb is used when you shoot...something with a laser.Those underpaid, underweight, yet, somehow, overworked factory workers? Dead. Not due to the apocalypse - believe it or not - they died a little before hand. Could have been a plague or it could have been that one robot arm, seemingly a little too sentient, taking revenge.With logistics gone, there was no more fast-food and. It seemed a bad side effect of the seventy to eighty hours of work continuously demanded of me by the division manager (a division manager who was a very close friend of Jennifer's mother), but I wasn't totally sure. Faced with all those long lonely hours Jennifer had started filling our lack of time together with friends of her own choosing - friends who didn't particularly like me. Perhaps those 'new' friends explained the discord that was now an ongoing part of our marriage."If you're still. .” she stammered, wide-eyed. “I don’t deserve to-”“The hell you don’t.”Logan stopped limping through the hall, laid a hand on her shoulder, and looked into her eyes with a serious expression. “None of this would have been possible without you. You are smart, capable, brave, and efficient, and you deserve to be recognized for that.”He smiled at her and started walking again. “So, you are stuck with the job. I’ll even sweeten the deal and offer you a hundred times your old pay.”“That’s still. He could just see his mother's pussy through her panties and he liked what he saw so far, and she was clean shaven. He could definitely see that his mother's shaved pussy was bulging in her new panties, and she was beautiful."What do you think," asked Ruth of her son in a husky voice, which told Bobby his mother was enjoying this too."Well, how do you feel?" he asked her in return."Really nice," she said.Bobby reached out his hand and with the tips of his fingers rubbed his mother's pussy.