The tournament was actually an 8-ball game where the winner kept playing as long as there was a challenger. It was purely a last man standing tournam...nt, so whoever won the last game won the money in the trophy, and yes, there were side bets. The wager was standard, you had to throw a ten into the cup to challenge, and it was one dollar for the game and one dollar for every ball you left on the table when your opponent sank the 8 ball. If you scratched the 8, it was ten for the scratch plus. MONCHY SIR, 7, GIVE ME YOUR HANDS SWEETIE, but Munchy plays harder with my slut hole which makes me let go of Honey’s hands, 8, JUMP AND GRAB MY HANDS SWEETIE, 9, Honeybee yells, OOH FUCK, OOH FUCK, OOH FUCK, and falls hard slamming on Monchy’s big fat cock again and as he slides back down, he feels Monchy’s cock going in and out, Honey moans some more, OOH YES, OOH YES, OOH MR. MONCHY SIR, AHÍ, AHÍ, AHÍ, AHÍ, YOU FEEL SO GOOD IN ME, WOW, WOW, WOW, AHÍ, AHÍ, AHÍ, so he just. And a make-up pencil–whose color perfectly matched the scribbled words on the scattered paper. I didn’t have to read her scribbling to know what it was she had been writing about. Or rather, who. All these things I neatly returned to her own small clutch and lay it gently on the empty space of couch by her side. ‘Last night, ‘ I began. ‘Was that your first meeting with Sir face to face?’ Slowly, the young woman nodded. She then took a breath as if to speak, but instead said nothing. ‘Hmm. And I. Won’t you come in?”“I ... I thought Andre would be here,” she stammered as reluctantly she entered.“Not tonight. But we do have an adventure to share with you. Gwen, isn’t it?”“Uh ... yes,” she said still uncomfortable. And “we”?“Let us introduce ourselves. I’m brad and this...” he said motioning to another man of color who entered from the kitchen, “is P.J.”“How do you do. Do you prefer Gwen or Gwendolyn?” asked the new arrival.“Gwen is fine, but...” she said looking nervously about.“We.