A simple, low Whimper. It was as though it had been torn from deep inside some living creature.The slapping resumed. Like something wide and oily had ...een applied with a vigorous stroke against some flexible object that fought back just a little." Is That.......?" He asked of the woman who led him. He wanted to hear it from her own lips. It was THAT exciting for him."You mean the new girl? The one who calls herself a "Breast Slut? Her Tits are meeting the oiled leather strap. Oh Yes.. And We. " She was the author, all right, but where did the ideas, the plots, the passionate gasps of the heroines come from? Where else? From my keys striking the the damn paper, that's where. No, not as the culmination of a chain of events initiated in her mind and sent as nerve impulses to her fingertips. From the inspirations and dreams I sent her while she slept. From notions I inserted into her petty little thoughts. From me and no other source.How many times did she end a particularly productive. More

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