“It’s a bit muddy, mind,” the farmer went on, looking at my flimsy footwear, which wasn’t really designed for tramping around fields. “Oh, I...��ll wait here,” I said. “I’ve got my drink and a book in my bag, so I’ll be fine.” I sat myself down on one of the benches, got out my book, and had another swig of cider. But I’m afraid my mind kept getting distracted, mainly watching John, the farmer’s son, as he idled about behind the serving counter, sorting out the take-out containers. Not beating. I then told her to write on a napkin the following, Come to room 409 in 30 minutes if you want to see what you were feeling. She completely lost it then and threatened to leave me at the club. Again I told her that she had to do whatever I wanted and that if she did not do as I said she would pay the consequences and that I would invite him myself. She asked if I really wanted to watch her make love to his black cock and watch him fuck her with it. I asked if he turned her on and she replied. More

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