’ Grief swept across her face like tumbleweeds on the plains of Texas. ‘Every evening since my brother died.’ ‘Peter Schmidt?’ ‘Yes. How d...did … wait. Now I remember you. You are Mr. Gafferson, the man who was there the night Peter was killed.’ With the lamps in her brain finally switched on, her face performed a three-act play: the poker game, Moe’s car, Mona’s house. ‘I was bleeding. It hurt so badly. Another man carried me out. We were in a car, driving very fast. I was so cold.’ ‘That’s the. When Tricia’s toes curled in her ecstasy, it was evident that the one-two punch of cunnilingus and analingus worked very well with her. In fact, she seemed on the border of sensory overload more than once, her skin darkening several times as she clutched my bedsheets and squirted her fluids to add to the vinegary smell of my dried cum stains on the fabric. (Yeah, I was known to hump the bed a time or two, so sue me.) When Lola and I swiped across Tricia’s taint together, it was the last straw. More

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