No stockings, no underwear, no jewelry, no shoes. Indian sex Every time I brought a new man home, I introduced her as an ass-whore. She’s making ridiculous “gulk, gulk, gulk” noises as he pounds his meat deep into her head. When he came, he was silent. “Not even four o’clock yet,” I said to her with a smile. Ears and labia pierced, a thin, gold nose ring through her septum. I always had them fuck her up the ass. The men filed in, staring and whistling at her, shaking hands with me, Ronny and Rick. “Now, the coup de grace,” he said calmly. “What the fuck? He said it made her look like a real whore. Rick jerked it off but I could see he was intrigued. My wife’s body was shaking, wracked with sobs as he swung again and again, changing between hitting the same spot over and over and moving around. It was stiffening underneath her hand. It was on one of those trips that I started the tradition. nothing else she can do for you?” He shook his head.
