” her tone in a horrifyingly genuine request.“It’s all dressed up like a whore,” remarked a male voice, “maybe we should fuck it first.” �...�You fuck it,” offers the other male. “You’re the one who’ll fuck anything that moves. Go on, I dare ya.”“I’m not into that gay queer shit. But this thing, it’s dressed up like a tart. It’s just begging.”“Whadya say girls?” the other male voice throws down the challenge.“Fuck it, fuck it, fuck it…” I hear two female voices start to chant in tandem, with a. "Are you sure you're ready?" I asked looking into your eyes. You blinked at me before swallowing and nodding. I leaned into you, bringing my hand up to cup the side of your face, kissing you gently, teasing your lips with my own, allowing heat and passion to spark between us. I flicked my tongue against your lip. You opened your mouth slightly and I gently touched your tongue with mine. I could feel myself getting excited, but this wasn't about me, this was your time. I pulled back to search. Jethro Morris murder victim.----It was a Thursday and nothing had been settled. The cops had no idea who stabbed Jethro Morris, or why. Lucy and I hadn’t worked out anything, relationship wise. I had finished researching more business opportunities, and found absolutely nothing of interest that was also viable. I plan to continue working on that aspect of my life into the evening. That plan was interrupted by a knock on the camper’s door. I opened the door to Happy Jones.“Hi there John,”. My husband Carl and I had known Bill for more than twenty years, hell he had been the godfather to our son and he and his wife Alma were frequent overnight guests at our house ... that is until about five years ago when Alma was diagnosed with breast cancer and from that day on Bill pretty much dedicated himself to taking care of Alma when he wasn't at work. Alma died on a cold rainy January afternoon and Carl and I were there for Bill; helping with the funeral arrangements and making sure that.