When we’d finished eating, we headed back to the apartment.“Can you make pizza like we just had?” Kara asked.“I just need to get the heavy cas... iron pan to make it in. My oven isn’t really right for it, I but I think I can compensate for that. You really need to put the pan on the hot surface, not a rack. I’ll get a pizza stone, which should help.”“I’m constantly amazed at how good you are at cooking. It’s not your best talent, though!” she smirked.“And what would that be?” I asked. A likely story." Jerry," Bev's voice came from the other room, dripping with false sincerity, "I need your help with the dinner." Nobody loves me. I'll see you later, Sara." And Jerry disappeared, followed by a happy shriek from Bev. When she was showered and dry, Sara walked out to where she had left her suitcase. Bev said, "It's in the bedroom, love. Sorry, I forgot to tell you. Feeling better?" Some," Sara said, "moving's hard," and went back to the bedroom to put on a red-and-white-checked. Well, I got pretty darn stuffed in about thirty-seven minutes. I chowed down and didn’t let the outcome motivate me at all. I was ravenous by now. I ate, ate, and ate, full of compliments for each of the cooks. Melanie in particular was tickled pink at the way that I devoured my breakfast. Those girls spoiled me rotten. They were so sweet to me! I felt like a king!“Thirty-seven minutes, twenty-two seconds. Becca wins,” Heather acknowledged, not even slightly bothered by the results.“Alright,. However if a female player got shot, the customer paid only 400 $. Plus the girl had to lift submissively her gun above her head and duck on the battlefield. The hit BDSM female need to let tits and vagina be exposed to the best of her ability for any paintball bullets to target. Usually the rules were that she had a chance to go back in the game if no batters were made at her in 3 consecutive minutes. The customers of course were having a hey day shooting at tits and trying to beat a.