And maybe he was right. Daily, I thought of the nasty man at the tattoo parlor fucking me and wishing I was with him.After about a month, Bob began to...change and seemed to lose interest in having sex with me. We went from having sex 3 and 4 times a day to once a day, then once a week. After Bob left for work each day, I would lay in bed masturbating, thinking of the man with the huge cock and playing with my pierced nipples.Most of our evenings were spent either watching TV or spending time. Usually it was while putting her clothes back on, like right now. I lay on the sheets, just watching her dress, my naked body covered with our perspiration and cum, a satisfied smile glowing on my face as she’d pause, a rare haunted look in her clear blue eyes. “Baby,” (She always called me baby, never used my real name, Shannon. Okay, that’s not totally true. There were other names she called me in the throes of passion. Her dirty little whore, her slut, her fuck doll, but afterwards, it was. More

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