Should I count each cunt I fuck and breed? Or should I count each fuck. You decide.”Jess looked pissed. This was not going her way at all, and not e...ding anytime soon.“I guess counting cunts makes sense. It’ll make this end sooner, I think.” Her comment shed more light into her dalliances than she knew. I had assumed hundreds of fucks and breedings. Now I’m beginning to think it may be more, thousands, perhaps.“As long as we’re on the same page.”, I said.And with that, I returned my attention. A. He had gotten himself a doctorate in economics from some school over in Europe when he was younger, before he came to America. When I met him, he was forty one years old, a big man, on the heavy side of stocky, standing almost six feet tall, with sandy colored hair, and a complexion that tended to be on the ruddy side of fair. He was originally from Romania, and had changed his name when he became a US citizen. His other name, the one he was born with, was nearly unpronounceable to someone. It was a minute before Donald opened the door, looking at his watch as he did. He greeted her fondly, as if he knew her well, though this was the first time he ever really saw her face to face. Now it should be mentioned, that after Emma and he had started corresponding he had searched for her to know more about her as she started sharing more and more about herself. He had found a number of local paper articles about her, with pictures at different events she worked at or supported. So, he. ”He stepped back and Emily stood immobile as she tried to pull herself together enough to go through her routine. She decided since she was much too shaky to do anything very fancy, she would stick to her well-rehearsed, well-practiced movements.The host and the audience were waiting with baited breath for something to happen. Just when they were beginning to think, she might be chickening out and going straight to the punishment room, the teen suddenly leaped into the air, and did the splits.