If it was real the chick in the car would have blown her up with the car bomb. Dead whores tell no tales," I said."So what do we do?" he asked."Why he...l son, we listen to their tale, then we break their asses." I said."So who do you want first?" he asked."Bring me the chick," I said. I pushed the furniture against the wall to make an open space. I put one of the clunky metal folding chairs, I had bought at a yard sale, in the middle of the floor. It wasn't a black prison, but it would do. The. Before too long, we were shedding clothing, notcaring if it was ruined in the process of getting rid of it. Thatdidn't seem to matter. All that mattered was that I needed to be closerto him and our clothes were in the way of that happening.I could feel his touches on my breasts and he played with my nippleswhich just fanned the flames of passion and I lost myself in these newand exciting feelings. He stroked and played me like a violin and Ireturned his caressing touches with ones of my own on. More

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