Her juices, combined with the lube, left her so slick Steve had a difficult time getting quite enough friction to come. Eventually, he did, however, a...ter his slave had come two or three times. He pulled out of her sloppy cunt, and turned to his new slave. She was on her knees, eyes glazed, with a trail of her lubrication running down her thighs. Steve presented his dripping cock to her lips, and she eagerly sucked it in, cleaning him quickly, though she flinched slightly at the taste of the. They looked around at each other in bewilderment.“Is that for real, Mister Brown, or some sick joke?”“It’s for real, Mark.”“But.”“But?”“You’re telling me I just get that fucking Rottweiler and the Model T to be driven just twice a year?”“I’m telling you.”“Can I just sell it?”“Nope. It’s now the property of the Ford Foundation.”“Well shit.”“So I can’t sell the Rockwell painting either?” inquired Lola.“Nope. It’s now the property of the museum. Your father was quite the philanthropist. You. I just made my harmless observation and then I felt a clunk on my head and a broken half of a cue stick fell right down into my pitcher of beer. I knew immediately and without a shadow of a doubt that someone had hit me on the head with a pool cue stick. As I told you in that other letter about my misfortunes that I got a steel plate in my head and it takes a hell of a hit to even give me a headache.So anyway I turned on my stool and I saw the other part of the broke pool cue in this fat gal's. A chocolate malt of optimum viscosity, too thick to slam, just thin enough to suck through a straw without causing yourself an aneurysm. And good conversation.“And you’re not going to tell me ANYTHING, are you?” Deena asked, her eyes flicking between me and Ram and Bren.“At this stage of the game there’s nothing I could say that would do you any good, Deena. They said I did okay. I know what YOU know, so you’ll do okay, too.”“Nikki,” Ram said, “how do you find these wünderkinder?”“We don’t.