A few minutes later his cum was pumping into her mouth. After she had reapplied her lipstick she moved to where he was sitting on the edge of the bed... “Take my panties off please,” she told him as she stood before him. Alistair looked at her with a shocked expression on her face. “Come on darling,” she told him, “I want you to know that you will be having your Sunday Carvery with a filthy dirty slut.” Alistair’s hands moved under her dress and to the waistband of her panties. He hesitated. Beforehe knew it, a breath taking orgasm shook his body. Tim sat in confusionwondering how that had happened.The being realized that he needed to absorb that type of energy to survivenow. Its normal method of food consumption would not compare to this. Aftertwo tastings of the orgasm energies, the being figured that it wouldn't needany more feeding for at least a week. The being wondered what had brought thefirst orgasm on and began to probe Tim's mind for the reason. It knew he wasreading a. How else to explain the lassitude, the numbing euphoria that slowly took me in its embrace? She was softly chanting nonsense syllables in a sing-song cadence, and this created a hypnotic throbbing, a muffled thumping behind my temples. I must have dozed off for a few moments.I jerked awake, and there, in the far corner of the room, she was removing the tarpaulin cover from a large and shapeless hulk. In the dim light it resembled a cubist sculpture, or something out of a 1940's science fiction. . Grace was getting an allover tan."Need some help?" I asked."No," she said. "How about you, Carole Ann?" He asked for you, Grace. I'm not moving."I heard the step prints of a light-footed blonde on the stairs. The telltale tracks stopped at the side door. She bent a neck around the door."What?"The interior of the boathouse, for all that it was less than three months old, looked like it had been the catch-all of miscellany for fifty years. There was a small dinghy hanging from the ceiling, odd.