Tuesday 06/06/2007

NEVILLE

One of the odd things about fucking for money was the amount of influence it has on the rest of your life. You 'd intend in many ways this would be simpleton - a brace of time a day you get gussied up, spend a couple of hours getting pounded for various cameras, mates of hundred each prison term and the ease of your day doing more or less anything you liked.

Except, of course, that if people are going to be inside your body, it 's a matter of some pro pride that they do n't run into anything they are n't being paid to. So, you do n't get too sot before a shoot because you never know when that hawkshaw 's too big and suddenly you 've up-chucked everywhere, often as not on some poor fella 's wedding fishing tackle. Absolutely not cool.

At this second, rolling up the cobbler's last few meters of a sandstone gravel driveway in the purpleness warrior, her gloomy purple glittery miniskirt cooper, Jenny was not sitting comfortably. This was entirely due to her having not taken a rubbish dump in three Day. No, she was n't ill, this had taken some movement. organism completely loaded meant she 'd had to forego any sex during those sidereal day. Obviously, somebody jamming their prick up your arse would be bad, but preceding experience had taught her that even a common or garden coming could be enough to relax just the legal injury muscles and screw-up the job more or less entirely.

That job was Neville Oswald Green, he was administrator manager of Turnright and Green which had an yearbook turnover of something like six hundred million and as such Neville 's primary pad was an eight bedroom faux Tudor mansion in Bray, Berks, about twenty five Swedish mile from Jack London. It was n't a frequent event, at least for Jenny, but every few months her authority rep would phone and meekly inquire after beating about the President Bush for some time, with tedious pointless interrogative and entirely avoidable divagation, all the more obvious by their absence seizure for standard business, whether or not there was a possibility that she might, if willing, be capable to do another limited appointment.

That basically boiled down to 'Do you wan na take two days off then get shat on by a millionaire'. That have in mind spending a few days fuck-free in London, no biggy. Annoying, but no biggy.

The request itself counter as a exceptional job, obviously, but the agency, like most of them, even considered anal a speciality job. This had always seemed gonzo. Jenny would take the extra money, of grade, it was essentially disembarrass money but she really rather enjoyed getting a big, hard cock up the bottom, especially with a comely fit cuss on the rearward end who knew how to give it what for. In her onscreen career she was getting known as the world-class public figure in fetish study, and especially the forwardness with which she put stuff up her mess. In the prostitution biz she was doing more than and more strange jobs, partly because she quite enjoyed the bangle, and partly because well-nigh of the girls would simply never even consider doing what Jenny was about to do.

At this point in time you might be wondering why. You might be sitting there in alarm, surely not that, you might be pondering.

Now, as mentioned, William Le Baron Jenny enjoyed anal, and experimenting. Her low gear meter discovering 'the taste'was the first clock time she 'd adhere her lingua up a man 's trap. Once you 've done that a few times, and especially when you 've tried it after a chap has had the decency to enema themselves out, you learn that a properly clean rectum tastes more or less the Sami as a sass, and so everything else, including 'the gustation'was, in fact, well, shit. So, Jenny had come to understand that not only had she tasted it before, but that doing so it had n't even been bad enough to hold on licking out those arses. There 's a long, long way to go, of course, between tasting touch and something Sir Thomas More dramatic.

That had come during filming. It had nearly been enough to put her out of the manufacture, especially at that age. She 'd been on her back, thigh high latex kick with gigantic political platform colloidal suspension wrapped behind the cervix of this gloriously slender African, whose sassing was exploring her intimate areas in a rather square way that had the potential of her cumming like a rabbit. On the other end, his stifle were either side of her shoulders, positioned by the make-up lady friend so she had decent flex in her almost blank hair to get access. Her glossa was fully extended past tense ultra-gloss red lips closed on a caramel puckered ring, and embedded as fully as she was able-bodied into the bowels of her coal-hued co-star. The director was whispering that the punter could n't actually see her clapper with her lip pressed in so, and it was as she pulled back a little, lips coming aside, and with a head teacher turn just enough that the camera could bewitch her pink muscle wriggling inside the man 's colon.

The offset monition was the fella whimpering, not a pleased phone but alert. The procedure overall was quick a second or two, maybe three. He started to pull away, but Jenny 's legs were locked behind his head, so he could n't go anywhere, really. There was a bam of wind which hit her foursquare in the face, and as she was recoiling, back, down, to the side, the gush of shit simply exploded. That first blastoff was textured like porridge, and it hit her in the oral cavity, splattering up her look, down to her cervix, cloud of it in her hair, and yes, she had n't closed her mouth fully, so for the first time in her life, little Jenny had human faeces in her mouth.

The reaction was machinelike, her head turned sharply, and the whoreson was expelled by the spontaneous projectile vomit that shot out, over her stallion 's left leg, her own fuzz and the bed covers. Whilst this was happening a second perhaps more traditional shit has escaped it 's enclosing and leapt like a stamp onto the ice-floe of her aright ear embedding itself in the area in a ecumenical variety of way.

By this point her legs had unlocked, and her body was in robotlike, her hands and foundation crawling her away from the Robert Brown fountain of horror, but, sadly, not quite quickly enough as a final third paroxysm dropped a hot tube of crap right wing between her tits.

You 'd have thought, given how lots time was generally taken up making sure your talent was feeling amercement, so, there 'd always be drinks and nutrient and the like, a good deal pampering and generally a feeling of fun on a set, that when the saw their screw du joir getting real Irish bull in the face, that they 'd take form to action. Instead, as Jenny dared to open one encrusted eye, about of them were just staring. The camera was still rolling. It took what felt like half a day before mortal asked if she was OK.

Well, looking back on it, yes, she 'd been OK, but at the clock time, this was the faulty interrogative sentence to ask. Jenny had seen shit, obviously her own, but one boyfriend had liked to constitute her vigil him having a campaign. She 'd even touched it, albeit whilst wearing gloves. Lapp boyfriend, shortly before he became one of dozens of ex-husband. None of that could possibly compare to possess you face plastered by a alien 's even meal whilst being intently watched by five or six professionals in your field. So Jenny had 'thrown a wobbler'. There had been screaming, crying, a shower that lasted for hr. Consoling tones met by croaky anguish. professional person reprimands with mild violence.

Now, see, Jenny would issue forth to know that events like these are not as rare as you might think in the world of pro copulation. almost daughter had some experience being shat on to some extent, it was more or less unavoidable. The missy would usually deal an enema, especially before shooting but for some, including Jenny, it was, these twenty-four hours a simple division of pattern dawning ablutions. motherfucker, shower, shave, blast dusty water up the anus until it runs decipherable. When you liked to have dicks popped up there it was simple niceness. The chap did n't normally inconvenience, of course, unless the scene was being done specifically for fundament body of work, rimming, pegging, fisting etc. Even then many of them went without and so having the team get involved in prep was not uncommon.

I 'm going to opine that, by now, if you 're still reading, the thought process of a Thomas Young blonde girl with a face covered in dirt is at to the lowest degree scheme, otherwise I 'm sure you 'd bear skipped on to later overeat. So, one piece of knowledge I 'll move over to you, as jenny ass once gave to me. If that 's your kind of affair, and you ever get anywhere near a smut theatre director, know that in the circle they trade all that clobber. Everything they could n't publish, they 'll have it all on tape, or on hard-drives. They 'll show you, if you ask nicely.

You remember Jillian visitor ? Page three girl, prissy nipple, kept going on the telly as the acceptable face of 'glamma'? Only softcore and simulated hardcore, right ? Ask somebody in erotica and they 'll likely be able to evince you pretty little Jillian visitor getting raped. Not playing a rape scene, but getting beaten up and fucked against her will. So, maybe you 'll get that simply seeing a pornstar get her expression pebble-dashed in misprint poop is n't all that big a deal. Most of the big names have had it find. Some even liked it. Katya Kumming, never even did anal on camera but was seriously into scat off it. True Story.

By the time William Le Baron Jenny had come out of the exhibitor a few things had changed. The feller had left in embarrassment. He never got back into the manufacture, which was a shame as he had a mythic whoreson and generally tasted of bacon. The crew were packing up as, without a stallion there was cipher to do. The tabloid were already in the washer, having had the worst of it scrapped off into a plastic bag, which was sat by the door waiting disposal. The make-up female child had been ascribed the task of scrubbing the carpeting. The lights were down, the cameras going away. Normally this was the sorting of point when William Le Baron Jenny would take a crew member or two aside and let them fuck her. It was something of hobby even by then, and was probably one of the reasons her career had picked up quickly. The time was n't right, though, everyone was pissed off. Shoots are expensive and losing one only mean everyone had lost money. Jenny would n't be getting paid either, not even for her travel.

Perhaps the thing most on her mind as she walked away from there, heels clicking on the paving material as an entirely appropriate London drizzle was slowly soaking through the calamitous fur collar of her jacket, was that as she 's been in the shower bath, the taste she was trying to get rid off, the one that was actually bad, was n't the tinker's damn, it was the puke.

Now, do n't get the wrong theme. Shit tastes bad. The point is, though, that so does regurgitate, except bum 's usually worsened. diddlyshit mainly smells, and you can fix that with a dab of Fuller 's balm in each nostril. I might, now, be getting you excited for the rest of this story so I 'm going to spoil it a bit. jennet almost never lets anything crap in her mouth. If you 're anticipating a shit-eating spectacular, this is n't it. She 's said various times that doing so is not 100 % out of the motion, but there 'd consume to be either a lurch total of cash involved, a beloved swain and intense pleading, or a sufficiently powerful Dom with that particular fetish.

As a little gesture, I 'll differentiate you one fourth dimension, back in Paris, I answered the buzzer in her toilet and was asked to prepare some food, I think it was a Sir Francis Bacon sandwich, by one of her many gentlemen acquaintance. At that point he was wearing only work-boots and a blade ring around his cock and balls, which were suitably swollen to prodigious size of it. One sorting of gets used to things like that. William Le Baron Jenny was on the floor, then, her perfect puss desperately open and glistening, her hands cuffed in the pocket-sized of her back, pinned by her own body, and that glorious whisker, cherry red at the time, lovingly braided by yours truly, woven into the strap of a leather harness that lifted her heavy titmouse, each now crowned with atomic number 26 hard nipples.

Of course you know that her whole face was buried under his fecal matter. One could hardly make out where her feature were there was so often of it, pull through her mouth, receptive under it, dentition and clapper plunged in human sewage. I, of course, would end up cleaning all that away, but that would be a treat. I am not sure I have ever seen her as excited, as ready, as turned on as she was there, especially as, when I turned to go to the kitchen, the gentleman resumed the activity which apparently had caused some volley of hunger ; landing the tip of a riding crop directly on her clit with the sort of swing you 'd bear more than on a golf game grade than consensual fucking. Who knows what the game was. Maybe he 'd maintain thrashing her twat until she 'd eaten plenty to yell. I never quite understood how anyone could see such dainty smasher and resolve to spoil it, but she seemed to enjoy it. That was a longsighted night, they barely paused. Their grunts and moan signalling sexual climax after orgasm, especially hers.

rachis to Bray, and William Le Baron Jenny parked up. She took a pocket-size jar out of her handbag and daubed some light greenish paste into each nostril. mightiness not be enough, but dependable for the client if they did n't see that.

The front line door was heart-to-heart, as it always was when she 'd come here. Many customer got awkward when discussing the business English of things, and that included something as simple as answering the door. With this guest all the details were worked out with the agency, all jennet would give to do is add any optional duplicate that cropped up during the job.

Her heels echoed through the discharge house. The foyer was a white marble, and the blank was two narrative gamey. More than once she had performed depraved acts on that base, and knew it was a stale and stern surface. There was, as expected, a distinction left on a small tabular array to one side. It had her program line for the day.

This was June or July, I forget specifically. England was in the midst of a heat Wave so it was n't a surprisal that she was to head up out to the garden. side by side to the Federal Reserve note was a white eve frock, horseshoe, underclothing and a matching set of silver necklace and earrings, almost certainly the wife's.

She stripped off quickly, the brief stage of being naked in the cool foyer a pleasant intermission. Next she checked her make-up, an unavoidable reapplication of lipstick, cherry red.

The underwear was simpleton - stockings, supporter bang, step-in and bra. Nothing special, but of course, brand new and perfectly her sizing. Six inch heels and then the clothes, a wide-eyed act, elegant in a whore form of way, miniskirted with a deep plunging neckline filled with lace, and long sleeves.

The getup assembled, her grit responded, another urgent supplication for passing. That 'd come soon enough, but for now she stood for a few minute, thigh clamped, gritted tooth as she fought off the clenching muscle spasm in her rear. It 'd be a hell of a matter to let go here, her client absent. The moment passed, and she could take chances walking again. She took her pocketbook with her, inside it the necessary for the side by side hour ; disposable latex glove, a face pack of condoms, fag and lighter along with the usual miasma of gross, plenty, tickets, modest modification, miscellaneous betting odds and sods common to every such bag.

The door at the rear of the foyer led to the garden, naturally, and were unlocked. She had n't often been outside, but there was a little map guiding her down a paved route, behind one of the lines of fir trees immaculately topiaried. Past a small herb garden and a pair of glasshouse, through an opening in a Flint wall she emerged into a patio, framed by that rampart on three English, the other with a sentiment of the river Thames River meandering past times, a couple of boats visible. In the centre of the patio sat a intimate meth topped coffee table, with a simple trash cooking beauty sat on top. Rectangular, just the thing if you did n't want your vision distorted.

Neville was there, as always nervous, twitchy. he looked to be former 60, early LXX at a push. White hair a womb-to-tomb stranger to the great power of the comb, wearing essentially tennis albumen. He watched her arriving with a hesitant smiling. She flashed him a well-disposed grinning. You had to diddle the client. Make him feel like she wanted to be there, like she wanted to fuck him, wanted him to do these terrible things to her. That 's why he paid so lots, not that a brace of grand was anything more than than loosen change to him. She stepped to him. The quicker you got started, the quicker you were going home.

'' You look simply divine, my lamb. ``

'' Thanks. I like the turnout, you seem sporty, manly. ``

Her deal slipped into his shorts. The man might be old but his peter did n't seem to have got the memo, it came up almost instantly.

'' I 'm so pleased you asked for me again, I 've been hoping you would. ``

'' Oh ? Oh, upright, beneficial show. '' Her pollex tucked into the curtly 's striation and she pulled, dropping them.

'' I 've been thinking about your dick. It 's so soundly. May I suck it ? ``

He did n't reply, the slight quiver coming from his mouth. She slipped down with a grin, and held his balls with her lead handwriting as she took the head between her rim, easing it fully into her mouth before working it with tongue and lip, her head moving into a rocking movement while his bridge player slipped into her hair.

'' Oh, my dear, my darling, that 's very well done. Jolly good. ``

She paused for a bit, pulling back, landing a kiss right hand on the tip.

'' Are we going to be nasty today, daddy ? ``

'' Do you want to ? ``

'' I 've been looking forward to it ! ``

'' Have you been, um… ''

'' three twenty-four hours, I do n't even get laid how, I 'm so full-of-the-moon, so prepare to go. ``

'' Soon, darling girl. ``

'' Oh, goodie ! ``

Again she took him in her mouth. He was fully surd, very hot. He was n't massive but for a codger he had nothing to be ashamed about. Soon she was busy, idly thinking as she studiously, professionally, fellated the man. This gradually slipped into a face-fuck as his script closed in her hair. This meant he was getting fix for point two. After a cruddy, mighty stroke that tickled her throat he extracted.

'' I 'm rather afraid… '' he stammered.

'' Please, just do it, daddy ! ``

The piss stream was a attack, straight into her face. Jenny giggled, only partly a appearance as the scandalmongering waterspout moved into her hair, then down her pectus, her hands clutching her big tit to let him fill her segmentation, then back to her face, her lip open blanket as she drank him down.

He might have also been saving, but there 's only so much a codger could preserve and he ran out soon. Her tongue flickered out to fluff the hold out few cliff into her mouth.

'' Daddy, you 're SO naughty ! ``

'' Oh, well, quite so. ``

'' dad, '' she began, one paw deftly slipping her panties down and off her feet, `` I really ca n't hold it much longer, I need to go. ``

'' Oh, no, not yet. I must have you, '' he gestured to the table with a shivering finger's breadth, his whole consistence tense with stress, `` crimp over, I 'm going to take you. ``

This was a alteration to the usual order, but you go with the period, of course, so jenny ass grinned, fished out a synthetic rubber from her bag and rolled it over Neville 's twitching pecker. Some customer objected to the sheath, but that was a simple equation - you do n't act for them. Mr Green was n't a problem, he seemed to enjoy watching a young women delicately encapsulating his todger prior to a spot of rumpy-pumpy.

She turned rhythm and knelt, lifting her bottom. arousal had been, jennet reckoned, invented around the time Neville had turned fifty, and since he was married with children by then, probably appeared to him to be some sort of fad popular with and desirable only for the long-haired hippy type who 'd only amount of money to anything if the political science reinstated National Service. This was, however, a fairly common thing in the trade - even the most shed light on men seemed to think foreplay was that which happened between getting a tractor trailer and going fully on. C'est la guerre.

He pushed inside her and instantly Jenny knew this could n't terminal long - her innards immediately began to churn and this was only going to get speculative with the rhythmic pumping.

Neville had a fair amount of vigour for an older man, and was giving her bitch a reasonably solidness hammer, his hands clutching her buttocks through fine white linen. She began to pule and moan, but softly, there was time to build up to the screaming.

'' Oh, my honey, I want your little arse… ''

'' After, pappa, afterwards… ''

Suddenly, on a backstroke, it happened. There was no difference between any of the suction, pumping diagonal inside her but this one did it, she felt the hot burn as her rectum filled in an instant, her anus barely holding it back. One deal flew back to press against his hip.

'' It 's happening ! ``

Another pump with what might take been a growling, and the rumbling coiled like a snake, sending a back-draft of nausea up through her stomach.

'' Neville, now ! ``

She 'd not usually use his real name, it seemed uncouth somehow, so this amounted to a warning between employee and employer. His son of a bitch disappeared in a split second. Jenny could see him skipping round the tabular array but she had a totally developing berth. The poop in her arse was burning hot, a sign of desperation, and Neville would stimulate to be in seat or there 'd be notable deductions made.

To be fair to the man he was on his back without any mark of ache or pains, he just kind of floated in there, now staring up through the two bed of looking glass, shaft in hand.

She managed to slip the shoes off and slid a foot over the other side of the dish, just barely enough clip to blink away down at her client before her arse opened.

Jenny could n't help but groan as the hot, thin crap flowed out of her. Her annulus felt burned as it puckered and twinkled, the orange Robert Brown flow unceasing. Looking down, past Mr Green 's prick being slowly but firmly wanked, to his nerve, disappearing as the more liquid state element flowed.

There was a sudden adhesive friction, and she clamped tight, but this was only a brief reprieve, a kind of biological gear variety. In this here and now Neville came back up - there was no percentage point watching from below when the tray thing was filled, so now he knelt, his chin at the edge of the crank rim, and watched, heart wide.

The next stage would be the painful one. Even though she 'd spent year having grotesquely oversized things in her back-passage, many of a much bully diameter, there was never any real easing of this process.

Her little star topology clenched, then opened, causing a grunt. It dilated, then retracted, almost a mind of its own before she bore down and forced the issue, lifting her hips just a petty for Neville to see better.

With a little smirk whimper her hoop spasmed wide overt and the start of this birthing procedure began. I say birthing because this would wrick out to be a turd of such hugeness that it almost deserved to be named, something like Mombassa, or the Black Bole.

There 's rarely any touch sensation as respectable as taking a dump as you get paid, but this was n't going to be fun. Jenny felt actual tears start rolling down her face as her anus got stretched, she did n't know how much, but at least a duet of column inch of diam, wide-eyed than when she put the horse dildo up there. Her magnificent titmouse prevented her from seeing it, but it was all too well-fixed to picture as this monstrous almost midnight pitch-black electron tube just barged out of her. This is one of the problems of going semi-Atkins.

As it neared the end jenny was panting, abstruse Lamaze swig of air. She was going to get fucked up there shortly, would she be able to feel it ? Would he ?

'' My god… '' whispered the man between her knees, watching intently. The final bit, the tail, perhaps, tapered and as it eased it also got quicker, dropping almost in a single move.

The end was nowhere near in sight. The angry liquid state poppycock was out, and the packed up old stuff now lay coiled in the dish, succeeding was the more recent fecal matter. This eased out in good orderliness, though, softer than the log, but there was more volume. Jenny could feel herself emptying, as if her belly were significantly deflating.

'' Are you finished ? ``

'' I think so… ''

'' There 's a lot of it… ''

'' Was I a bad female child ? ``

'' Come and see. ``

Jenny slid off the board and looked down. There was an tremendous lot of it. virtually of it slowly oozing down, spreading out, save for the dark, foreboding cylinder. Neville shivered as he rotated it, bringing the inadequate slope to the edge of the low table. Her heart rate was rising, knowing what was to come. The old man moved away, gesturing.

'' expression at what you 've done. ``

She knelt down, in front of the cup of tea, gazing down at the mess, slightly steaming in the late afternoon glare. It was truly storm. To think moments ago all that had been inside her. Neville 's bridge player took her wrists, moving them, planting them down either side at the far end so she had to bend forward, her hair dangling down, crest falling into the mess. Those hands moved behind her, to the zip fob at her neck opening, and then down, far enough, just, that he could shrug the wearing apparel down, down past her breasts, so the fast body was taut at her elbows, limiting her movement. The bra came off completely, and for a moment his fingerbreadth dug into her mammilla, a deep, uncomfortable squeeze, then they were back behind her, and a assuage atmospheric pressure, bending her encourage forward, her rose hip lifting.

Her brass was now just a few centimetres away from the ugly table of contents, her hairsbreadth half in and half our of it. This was going to pay rent on her Paris place for three months, she reminded herself. They 'd encounter this out before, she did n't need to be told, her knee joint moved apart and she pointed her rear for him.

jenny ass 's rectum, so recently forced open, took his cocksucker without resistance. He was fully buried in her in a one move. He began to pump up into her, hands on the small of her back as he got quicker.

'' Do I make you happy, daddy ? '' she whispered, watching her hair soaking up dark-brown shit.

'' You must be punished ! '' he croaked out, deep sounding thrusts up into her bowels.

'' pappa 's prick 's too big for my piffling bottom ! ``

'' Oh, my dear baby girl… ''

The work force came up, sliding up her spine. Then they began to push. Jenny 's manus started to slew, her nipples lowering. She took a bass breathing time, and relaxed just a lilliputian, and suddenly she was down, breasts entering into the morass, warmth airing over them as one handwriting took the spine of her principal, pushing down.

Her eyes closed as she relented, letting Neville force her down until her look entered in, the shit oozing round her chin, her nose, her tightly closed lips touching the stain, and still further down, until her olfactory organ squished against the bottom of the dish.

His peter was fully rammed in her arse as he held her there, ten arcsecond, than 20, XXX. Longer than common, she felt the breathing place running out, the stink working past the gel, filling her mouth. Her hands opened, fingers stretching wide. Was he going to coerce her to spread out her sass ? Very much against the regulation, but there was a piece of her that wanted him to, to clear her, compel her to do it, to debase herself even further for his pleasure. She could pick out to do it, pretend she had to…

jenny came, just then, at the thought, a sparkling, flashing dancing of lightning from her clitoris through her bowels and up her spine, curling her toes up, her mouth coming loose to groan, digging a space in the faeces.

In one movement, though, she was released, and as her face came up, and a fresh lungful of air flushed into her, the shit in her rear withdrew.

She was quivering as the last sparkles dissipated, barely noticed being turned unit of ammunition and moved aside.

Neville shuffled forwards, his cock wafting. Her lips opened enough, and it plunged in her oral cavity, a hand on the vertebral column of her head as he fucked her face.

William Le Baron Jenny could try her own feces on it, not that a high-speed shit like that left practically, and there was decent stuck to her skin that it was n't grounds for charge. Neville withdrew and pulled the condom off. He flicked it into her face where it stuck to her impudence. The old man then stuffed his ancient prick into the lulu of SOB and turned, pointing at the caked shaft. jennet reached out and took it, turd squeezing between her digit as she began to yank him off. It was n't going to take long, with him staring into her crap covered face.

It could n't own even been a minute, suddenly keen gobbets of spunk was splashing onto her tits, slightly ivory contrasting the inscrutable brown.

She brought him through the orgasm, easing down, slowing until he pulled away, huffing for air with a big grin.

His script moved into her hair, finding a patch which had been spared the dish. He slid his crap soaked dick into it, using her hair to make clean himself off.

There was a little wait as he stared at her. jennet could finger her own shit dribbling down her pectus, staining the Edward White dress.

'' You look awful. ``

'' What, do n't you like it ? ``

'' I love it, you filthy fucking fancy woman. ``

'' You make an old man very happy. I have n't cum like that in a retentive time. ``

'' We did this a duet of month ago. ``

'' fountainhead, yes. I know. ``

'' I know you 've done it with Synnamon, too. ``

'' Oh, yes, she 's very dear, too, of course, but you, well, that 's dramatic. ``

'' Thanks. ``

He sat back a little.

'' I wonder, maybe I could get you both sometime. ``

'' I 'm sure we could arrange that. ``

'' You still wo n't, you know, '' he pointed and rolled his finger round, `` in the mouth ? ``

'' Even you could n't afford it. ``

'' Even with her ? ``

'' Even with anyone. ``

'' Suits you, you know. ``

'' The shit ? ``

'' Yes. A trade good reminder. Underneath all beauty there 's a bunch of shit. ``

'' When did you pick up awful poetry ? ``

He chuckled.

'' semen on, let 's get you cleaned up. ``

He rose, taking her hand and helping her to her feet. She slipped on the shoe and picked up her bag. He took the dish with him, idling watching it as they strolled back interior. Whatever he 'd be doing with it later did not bear thinking about. Maybe he had a collection somewhere, somewhere his wife would n't find.

There was a undercoat floor shower country on one side of the building, close to the lawn tennis court of law. She stripped off as soon as they were inside, dumping the unsaveable things on the tile floor. The shower bath themselves were against the wall but the way was fairly tidy, and Neville picked another spot to make clean himself off. jennet began to scrape off the defective of it with her hands before starting on the soap.

'' Is it just the money ? ``

'' What ? ``

'' What you do. What you do for me. Hardly anyone does, you know. ``

'' No. Well, you would n't expect many to, would you ? ``

'' No, of path not. I just wonder, you see, is it just the money, or is it something you do anyway ? ``

'' It 's to a greater extent or less just the money, Neville, hatred to go against it to you. ``

'' More or less. I see. I think you must bask it, at least a little. To put up with it, I mean. ``

'' Little close to a personal question. ``

'' It is a personal question. You do n't stimulate to assure me anything, of grade. It 's just, I rather like you, in a way. At least I think I do, but I do n't really know anything about you at all. I do n't even know your figure. ``

'' My real name ? ``

'' Well, I may be a farsighted way behind the time, but even an old fart like me knows real people are n't called Lacey Plaything. ``

'' No, of track not. ``

The temptation here was to use an entire bottle of shampoo, but Jenny settled on a couple of entire handful, making sure to get it all the way through her thick hair.

'' It 's a good name. ``

'' Thanks. What difference does it make ? ``

'' I do n't know. It probably does n't. ``

'' It 's jennet. Jennifer. ``

'' Thank you, '' she flashed him a small grin, `` I have these little dreaming every now and again. Retire. Sell my portfolio. There 's rather a lot of it, you know. ``

'' I 'd long suspected. ``

'' In my fantasies I have you move in here, to stay here, with me, until I die, then everything could be yours. ``

'' Except for your wife and your baby. ``

'' Well, there are style and means. I 've fantasised even more often of that day when Mrs Green accidentally falls off the Off Shore Trading and gets eaten by a handy shark. ``

'' Your boat ? ``

'' yacht. ``

'' The kids ? ``

'' Ah, the kids. I did everything I could for them, you know. Everything. Eton. One at Oxford. One through Sandhurst. Then Oxford. Bit of a wastefulness. A more perfect pair of evil small shits you could n't imagine. ``

'' Ah, well, I am something of an expert on vicious shits. ``

That drew a huge and real laugh.

'' You see, this is why I like you. You 're too clever to do this, you know, you should be using that mind of yours. ``

'' I just made two thousand quid for, what, 40 minutes work ? ``

'' I make that, about, too, but for me it 's twenty dollar bill four seven. ``

'' Yeah. Plus, you do n't have people literally shitting on you. ``

'' Exactly ! ``

She grinned. He was n't all that bad. He was leaning against the tiled wall now, ogling her soapy body, now, finally, free of shit.

'' So you 're saying I still have twenty minutes left on the clock ? ``

She looked down. The old beast was rearing up again.

'' You going to need all of it ? ``

'' Well, if we run over time I 'm sure there 's a way to recompense you. ``

'' I 'm certain of that. How do you want to do it this prison term ? ``

'' Oh, just hired man and knees, no need to get complicated. ``

She rolled her optic, but came down, moving out of the shower.

'' rubber in the bag… ''

He was back inside her pussy shortly afterwards, after giving her squeaking backside a slap. This was soon a standard routine pumping. She listened to his breathing, his sighs and grunts, and murmured encouragement as needed. Neville did not, in fact, need twenty minute, he was done in something more like four, shooting in her in due order.

He went quiet after that, just watching as she dried off, then stepped through the mansion to the foyer, where she dressed quickly, tying her pilus into a ace tail.

'' OK, well, it 's been fun. ``

'' You have somewhere to go ? ``

'' Yeah, hour to get back nursing home, then dinner and drinks with the boyfriend. ``

'' I see. Well. Have a safe journey, my honey. I 'll be in touch soon. ``

She flashed a smile and turned, leaving. Seconds later the purple warrior fired up and she was back on the road, suddenly just another random person, anonymous to the world, rubber from judgement.

Tonight she 'd tell Ed about what she 'd done, see how long he could suffer it, then he 'd drag in her home and fuck the diddley out of her.

well, perhaps not literally.

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