He turned and looked at her briefly, then looked back into the refrigerator. ‘Where’s the milk?’ he said through the door. He had an accent. It ...asn’t heavy, but there was a lilt to his cadence and a slight rolling of the arrs. She smoothed down her blouse and realized she must look like hell. ‘It was spoiled,’ she said, walking toward him. His head peeked back up over the top of the door. ‘Who are you?’ His eyes were rimmed in red, his hair greasy and matted down, and big bags were under the. He thrust without trepidation, knowing full well she was suffering a bit for it, and elicited more muffled whimpers through the wrecked panties in her mouth. He pushed her pretty head into the pillows until he couldn’t hear her educe at all. She was his slut, his project, filled up with the unapologetic cock that made her his, that promised harder and with more virility in each heave, to unburden its ample reserve into her cum hoarding girl parts. Her whore hungry pussy froze in semen. More

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