“Did you miss gagging on my cock, filthy slut?” You ask, still thrusting.It’s hard to answer with your cock in my throat, but I do anyway. My �...Yes, Sir” comes out a muffled garble, but it appeases you, and I’m awarded more slaps on my breasts. I squeeze my eyes shut, tears spilling over my cheeks.You suddenly pull out, strings of my saliva follow your cock as you withdraw from my lips. “Fucking skank, you made a mess,” you grin.I resist the urge to grin back. I really am a mess… my lipstick. He looked to be about fifty. He was tall and bone thin. His hair was stringy, shoulder length and held out of his face with a pony tail. A long sleeved t-shirt with a Grateful Dead logo, faded Levis and funny looking suede boots completed his costume, for that’s the only way to describe it. Add the round gold granny glasses, the little strand of beads and he was the perfect hippie, just a little long in the tooth and forty years out of his era. ‘I’m Penny Collins-Lynch, this is my first day, so. More

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