What business of his was her name, anyway? The only thing that mattered between them was the swollen, raging prick she clutched in her fists. The only...thing.They moved to the bed. He picked her up like a bridegroom and carried her over, depositing her carefully on the mattress. She looked up at him, stroking her tits and pinching the nipples even harder. They were blood-red with lust, and so were her eyes.He knelt by the bed, leaning across her where she lay. He started at her mouth and kissed. But she had pushed me beyond where I wanted to go and for the moment, I was interested only in my own pleasure.I dove into her tongue first. My lungs expanded as my nose delivered that delicious female-in-heat aroma. Foolishly expecting something different, I recognized the aroma, the taste of every other woman who'd spread her legs for me. Who was it that said, and I paraphrase deliberately, 'a cunt is a cunt is a cunt'? Or alternatively, 'a cunt by any other name would taste as sweet'?I. More

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