She was panting as I pulled out and stepped back. " I can't keep doing this, John." she said. I kissed her forehead, pulled my pants on, slid into my ...acket and just walked out. Fifteen minutes later she was sort of back together. Cleaned up. Her dress was back on her where it started. Her hair back up in a sloppy bun. We left the restaurant going to Lisa's apartment. Soon another passionate kiss ensued, the kind of kiss that only a husband and wife should engage in, not one to be between a. I snapped back from my vision, as I could hear yelling and the sounds of glass breaking coming from within her house . . . Eric, her husband, was undoubtedly drunk again. Listen hear you fuckin whore, I heard him yelling, maybe if you knew how to fucking cook, I wouldnt have to treat you like a goddamn dog! I was walking up the stairs then, debating whether to just walk home, but the screen door flew open and Eric just looked at me, brushed by my shoulder on his departure, and just kept. “What happened? Did you bang your mouth on the desk?” he asked.“No, I had to bite my lip from screaming. Is it bad?”“Well, it’s not good. Here—here’s a tissue,” he said, handing her one from the box on her credenza.“That was quite animalistic, babe,” Lauren said as she wiped her mouth. “And I have the wound to prove it.” She smiled and held up her arm. “And there’ll be a bruise, from the looks of it.”Indeed, a black and blue patch was forming over a patch of pink skin on the underside of her. My chest and stomach were covered with lunchmeat and cheese slices and a pile of potato salad was between my tits. Pickles, olives, peppers and other items soaked in an olive oil marinade were in the valley created by my legs which had been tied together.Some of the bikers ate directly from my body, while others just scooped things onto a plate; though somehow, I got poked and prodded with a lot of fingers. When the food was gone, my legs were untied, spread open and tied again and a bowl of.