.. Yes there, lick my clit, suck on it... God that feels so good! Now stick your tongue in there, all the way inside... OH! OH! YES! Slide it in my cr...ck..." Maybe it's Jenny. She's slutty enough to do something like this." Elaine suggested, sipping her wine thoughtfully."How would you know?" Alison asked tartly. "Anyways, this voice isn't whiny enough for her. Maybe it's old Mother Hawkes!"Elaine spluttered a mouthful of wine at the image of Gordon's weird mother doing something so. She knew better than to turn her head; her focus was on her work, even when she sensed – smelled – the sweatshop’s owner breathing on her neck. She’d become on of his favorites lately, a designation she could well do without, but dared not mention aloud. Sam, the owner, was a fat, balding man with dark sweat marks staining his shirt. Secretly, Joyce wondered when he’d last bathed; he always stank, and whenever he used her mouth, it was all she could do to keep from gagging at the rancid. More

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