"This is, my Bitch. That's her only name now. Bitch, this is ... ahhh ... Kong. Yeah, Kong. Kong got all excited watching me kill that cunt. He needs ...elief and since you are a good for nothing slut as well as my bitch, take care of it."She dropped to her knees and took my cock in her mouth. He whipped her once with the switch, then stopped."Oops, almost forgot, I don't want to mess you up. Keep sucking and I'll be right back."He returned with a leather strap, about and inch and a half wide and. About half-an-hour into the show, some fat asshole in the back yelled, "Go fuck yourselves, faggots!" Before I tell you what happened next, let me tell you about what Suicide shows were like in the early-to-mid Seventies. Picture two leather-clad guys, one scowling and torturing an organ, the other striding around like some Fifties housewife's nightmare of a rockabilly (who had come for her daughters and sons, of course), both intent on making as much trouble for themselves as possible. Add an. I could barely see him coming towards me. The clouds had covered the moon and there was very little light coming into the barn. He looked like a dark shadow coming across the barn. It aroused me even more seeing him that way. It was like a stranger coming towards me and I was locked in this old barn. I felt a warm flush come over me. The thought of it being a stranger made me very hot.I reached out to feel when he got close.“Hi, baby,” I said very softly.Bobby didn’t reply. I felt his hands. It was all her stuff. High School yearbooks, fat scrapbooks, faded photos from college, etc. There were lots and lots of loose photos. Hundreds. Woulda been a small fortune in film and development costs back in the day. Her with frizzy 80s hair, her with friends I didn’t recognize, sporting events, her during the college Grunge years - wearing combat boots and a flannel, etc.But one random photo out of this immense pile caught my eye. “Hello … what’s this?” I picked it up and showed it to my.