Ron brought home groceries. He’d taken a liking to grilling chicken, and after plunking down a family pack of legs and thighs, he wandered out back ...o start the grill. He ignored my lack of dress, the bruises on my wrists and ankles, and the cum in my navel. My fault. I was so often naked in the house, his old lady’s pussy didn’t distract him from his immediate craving. I tore into the shopping bags, looking for cigarettes. Son of a bitch didn’t smoke! One of our neighbors did. I wondered if he. I could see that there was spunk in my hair, but there wasn’t much I could do about it. I looked over at smiler and he just smiled back. I directed him to my flat, he waited while I went upstairs to get my phone. I dabbed at my hair with a towel to get the worst of the mess out of my hair and brushed it through–maybe it would act like a conditioner! As I came back down the stairs I dialed Nigel’s number. ‘Hullo?’ ‘Hi Nigel, it’s Nicki–who bought your mini?’ ‘Oh hi! How are you? How’s the car?’. More

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