. Did he care? ... No, not really. He was an alumnus of the I dont give a fuck school, majoring in do whatever pleases you, with a minor in whatever w...rks. He had no further ambitions beyond working his shifts as a garbage man, and working the streets as a perv in his spare time afterwards.It was a weekday afternoon in the fall, as grey and sticky as it can get. Fred was doing his final round of the shift for the day, standing erect (no pun intended) on one side of a slow-moving but noisy. ”“Oh...”“Yeah,” he said, needlessly reaffirming his statement, but opening the door to further questions.“Was it rough sex?”“Do you like rough sex? He asked, growing interested in where the conversation was leading.“Mmmm, sometimes, yeah.”“It was pretty rough from my point of view.”“Did you tear off her clothes?” Madison asked as she began squirming on the bench.“Yeah,” he nodded.“And she struggled and kicked as you tore off her clothes?”“Basically,” he said.“And then you fucked her? You held. Then I placed my cock on her pussy lips and teased her till she begged me to enter. She was on her safe cycle so I could cum inside her too.The vaginal sex was good but I wanted her big ass more. I made her stand in doggy style and entered her slowly from behind. It was almost impossible to enter so I had to lubricate her ass and my dick with some vaseline. And after 2 attempts, my dick went inside her tight butthole.I kept ramming her 10 minutes and I could hear the ‘puch puch’ sounds. She was called The Swede, or sometimes Joan Suede, or Joan the Swede, but whatever she was called, she was, by every measure, so the stories went, the absolute best as well as the most expensive fancy woman on the Atlantic Coast.She was, they said, man sized, brazen, gorgeous and unnaturally hungry for cock. A visit to her chambers cost, I had been told, at a minimum, a pound sterling and for that you got one try and no more than an hour of the big harlot's time. The inn where she worked kept.