It was Hell. But Dante, that bastard, forgot to warn us about this particular circle. I recall at certain points, for God knows what reason, shots of ...equila being pressed to my lips. I was beyond caring. In time, successfully completed rounds brought sorority-sister style giggles and speculations as to how much farther I could go. This, of course, was merely their clever, but transparent, way of increasing the intervals between actual sucking. If somehow I could manage revenge, it would indeed. Arturo had a secret entrance into the house through the basement and up the back stairs. It was easy to bore a hidden spy hole from a back closet into his parent's bed chambers. Even he, poisoned at an adolescent age with cynicism, was astonished to see that it was the young priest from their own district who was grunting and thrusting between his mother's quivering thighs, her knees pulled nearly to her shoulders, her lusty, obscene cries heard but ignored by their embarrassed household. More

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