Sybil sat on the bed, kissed me softly. ‘Sharing is fun Martha. And we’re all a little bit slut down deep aren’t we?’ Slut – the word rattle... in my mind. God, I am a slut, aren’t I. And I don’t care, I just know that I want to fuck that big cock again. So there it is, that’s how it began. Poor Tom has no idea why I’m such good friends with Martin and Sybil. Tom continues to like to fuck every week or two but I can hardly feel him in me. I thought I had it pretty good. At 41 years old, I had it. ‘Shot of Jack,’ Tracey muttered, just barely loud enough for the bartender to hear. Tracey did not know why she ordered Jack Daniels, she barely drank beer. The cigarette smoke in the bar was making her head hurt. She could hear the loud music from the junk box in the corner and the shouting and laughter of the other patrons. The bartender brought her a shot of the whiskey and sat it in front of her. What are you doing in this place?’ the bartender asked, ‘you don’t belong here.’ Tracey. More

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