Heather grabbed it before it hit the ground.“Champagne? You did come prepared, didn’t you? Any glasses?”I produced some plastic beakers.“All I...could find. I didn’t think that fine crystal was appropriate.”“They’ll do. Will you open the bottle, or shall I?”“I’ll do it.”I pointed the bottle around the edge of the sackcloth door and eased the cork out. I caught the cork as it left the bottle’s neck. I poured a large beaker each.“To us,” I said, raising my beaker.“To us,” Heather replied.“You know. .. well ... he had. That day she learned about what a penis was for and that was the last time she called it that. Cock, dick, Johnson, ding-a-ling, schlong, pecker, dong ... and a whole bunch of other things. It made the itch in her kitty go away.By the time the day was over she had been throughly fucked in three holes ... and liked it all.By the time she was 14 she’d had every unmarried man and boy in town and half of the married ones. She caught one time ... the preacher man, her mother. More

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