He's goingto be voting on your promotion, too. Another vote for you couldn'thurt." Yeah," I agreed, "but damn! The man smells of stale coffee andcigar...ttes."Carter grinned. "He'd smell of booze too if he didn't favor vodka atlunch. I'll admit he's no prize as a human being; ask any of his ex-wives. But he knows his business. All you need to do is watch and keephim informed of our interests. He can take care of the rest."I was silent for a moment. "Do you really think I'll need his vote?". I catch my wife checking the Farmer’s Almanac as September advances, but I pretend not to notice. We both know what’s coming. Just prior to the full moon illuminating the chill dusk of October, my wife feeds me a very large porterhouse steak, cooked very rare and dripping red with blood, and pours me a large glass of red wine on the pretense of celebrating the end of the crop season. My head starts to lighten after the second glass and I start eyeing her ass, feeling a bit romantic. My wife has. .”“Oh, you two aren’t a thing?”“He’s my friend.”“So you go on a sailing jaunt with a friend. Nothing wrong with that.”“I guess not.”“Lemme show you where everything’s at. The other two should show up any minute. They’re bringing pizza for lunch.”“Great,” I said. “I can do pizza.”“Be careful if Jo or Stoney bring it. They like anchovies.”“Ewww.”“She says it’s genetic – her Norwegian roots.”“Norwegian?”“Her dad is. Mom’s Irish. You hang around here long, you’ll meet ‘em. They’re good. CRACK!"Two. Thank you Mistress. May I have another?" Where is Beth's tongue?CRACK! This blow went between her legs and actually caught Beth on her tits."Three. Thank you Mistress. May I have another?" Get busy, cuntlicker." Sara told Beth. "Eat her pussy now, or I will start whipping your tits even harder."Debbie suddenly felt Beth's tongue inserted into her pussy, and soon was working wonders on her clit.CRACK!Debbie was crying now."Thirty! She sobbed. "May I have another?" Well, since we are.