You big-titted slag. You love doing this don’t you? How many men have come in your mouth I wonder? Is it hundreds?” She doesn’t respond. “IS I...?” I almost shout. She mumbles her assent. “More than five hundred?” She waves a hand side to side. So about five hundred. “God, think of all the cock you’ve sucked and all the spunk you’ve swallowed over the years, you filthy street walker. Gallons of it! What a dirty old trollop you are. You dirty slag, with your big tits and your stockings and your. I was led to what felt like an overstuffed, high-backed chair several feet across the room from where I had entered. My wrists were bound, comfortably, to the arms of the chair as I sat. I felt movement in front and behind me and breathed deeply to assure myself that these scents were the ones so familiar to me. They were. My two lovers were here. I was certain of that. I felt safe and relaxed a bit. But a moment later, while still feeling them move around me doing who-knows-what, I caught. More

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