Gayle had fixed lasagna -- she had a more limited repertoire back then, or maybe a tighter budget -- and he, Bill, Greg, Steve, Gayle, Val, Sharon, an... Jane had all enjoyed the meal and the drinks. They got quite merry, and they were all sitting in pairs, he and Gayle in the big armchair.“Val is shy,” Gayle had said. “She likes to have the entire apartment for her and Greg. Can I go back with you?”Well, if that meant that he’d have sex on the evening that they’d met, the answer was yes. Gayle’s. “After breakfast, can you guys let me in on the mysterious paintings?” our mother asked.“Sure thing, Jugs!” I answered causing her to blush.“Did I tell that story yesterday?” she asked, touching the side of her head.“Oh, there’s a story behind that particular nickname, Mom?” I asked.“Yes, eat your breakfast, it’s getting cold!”I dug into it all as did my little sister – Mom always could cook anything she tried, and breakfast was her specialty.“Mom, I promise to cook and clean as needed around. Maya's stimulated well used pussy lips are out, well used and hanging down! They are easily accessible the slave complex's metal smith positions one her labia lips over the hole punch and by the time she tries to reacts it is quickly punched leaving a clean hole where the soft tender naked flesh had been only moments ago! The pain is sharp and piercing as she reacts with a painful yelp! Before she knows it a silver ring with her ID tag is inserted, professionally crimped and permanently. “And yourself?” “But pissed off actually. I was supposed to meet Simon here but his car has broken down on the M1 as he was heading home. Well, that's what he told me at least!” Simon was Jenny’s husband. He was also a regular but, to be honest, he was a dickhead. The kind of guy who you have to ask to stop shouting across a quiet bar after 4 or 5 beers. The kind of guy who never tips because he drinks in your place 5 nights a week. The kind of guy who, whenever Jenny isn't with him, will chat.