And when he went to pick up the bundle that had fell. Ron saw that the bank strap broken. But after seeing the strap, all that Ron could see was green...paper, not money. Just worthless green paper. His heart sank. Ron had no idea the stacks of paper he had been placing in the bag were all not Legal Tender, better known as the Federal Reserve Notes. That we all have called money, or cash, among many other names. Ron spent the few minutes in a daze before he got his mind thinking again. Gone was. Almost without thinking, slipped my own hand down the front of my panties, closed my eyes and let my fingers glide between slippery wet lips. Maybe it was because the scene on the TV had ended. Or maybe I actually sensed someone watching. But when I opened my eyes and shifted my gaze from the TV screen to the patio, I almost died of humiliation. A shirtless Skip was standing in the open door, his eyes focused intently on my crotch. My expression must have been priceless, a combination of horror. Wanting to flush that fucking toilet and doing it turned out to be two diametrically opposed ideas. With my wrists chained to my ankles it was impossible to get close enough to the flush lever to push it down. I tried all kinds of ways but always seemed to come up short. The toilet bowl was too close to the cinder block wall on one side and the metal stall wall on the other. I was too big to squeeze in between on either side. Leaning across the bowl, my head, the only part that could be used. There’s so much of it. It goes in her mouth and in her hair. She’s so humiliated but also triumphant. Surely he’ll want to stay with her after this. When he finishes, she goes to the bathroom to wipe herself up. She can’t believe what a disgusting, desperate little whore she looks in the mirror, overgrown tits shaking, covered in cum, dripping down over her belly. She gently touches her swollen pussy and is shocked at how open her hole is, slowly going back to normal size. If it will ever go.