I told her, “Room service. Mini bar. Trashy movie.”She smiled wanly; she’d be with me in spirit.Human beings, by orders of magnitude, are the mo...t vicious animals on Mother Earth.I was so touched.FBI Special Agent in Charge, Hank Morristown, had brought an FBI windbreaker for me. Dark blue with those distinctive yellow letters. Nylon-lined sleeves, slash pockets, elastic cuffs.I know you can buy replicas anywhere, but this was the real deal.Daddy was riding shotgun in Hank’s plain-wrap borrowed. Unfortunately, the only thing Greg Sanders could grow were debts, rocks and erections. He ended up leaving Rhoda for a waitress at a bar-probably very similar to the one his son was sitting at now, in fact-and Rhoda took George, then seven years old, to Portland. Rhoda divorced Greg but left George with his father's name. She got a job working for one of the banks in downtown Portland as a receptionist and administrative assistant. She also started taking classes at PSU with the idea of. I wanted to watch them fuck. I wanted to see Carol in the throes of lust.The three of us moaned.John slowly sank his cock into Carol's sopping cunt. When he hit bottom he froze and looked over at me. His face was contorted with pleasure so intense it was almost pain.My eyes were glazed over with lust, my body trembling and my cock was vibrating. All I could do was lay there and stare at their joined bodies. John pulled back until his cock was almost out of Carol's cunt. It was glistening. “It isn’t any different than walking a dog. Do we have poop bags, or does she just dig a hole and bury it like a cat?” Lindsay shrugged. She was fully dressed, seemed eager to help him.“Last night, I made her dig a hole near the rose bush,” Dad admitted with a look of embarrassment on his face. He never expected he’d be explaining Charity’s pooping habits to the rest of us when we moved in. He looked around for a moment as if considering her offer and told her they could walk Charity.