He spit onto my ass a couple times, and at first I thought he was going to go straight to fucking me there. But then he spread the wetness around wit... his hand before pulling it back and striking my now damp flesh. HARD. And again, and again. The only sound in the room was the loud wet slap of his hand on my ass, my yelps and half sobs in between, and the slight grunts he made on the really hard ones. He stopped after a few moments. He must do this all the time, I thought. He managed to. The shotgun was legal so I carried it right out in the open.The Brit came in after a couple of months. "Hey," he said to me."Where the fuck have you been?" I asked."Somewhere back in South America, teaching the government how to fight gangs." Brit said."And how did that work out?" I asked."About like you would expect. When the training broke down so completely, that we were leading strikes in the field, I knew the writing was on the wall." he said."Did it get so bad that the most corrupt ones. More

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