She had a way of making me afraid and making me soak my panties with pussy drool at the same time, you know?Speaking of pussy drool, I was a mess. My ...louse looked like it had been crumpled on the floor, stepped on, and used to wipe cum—a lot of cum—off somebody’s face, because, well, it had, right? My pants looked about the same, for the same reason. I had no idea where my panties were (probably hanging on some frat room wall as a trophy, like a stuffed moose head). My hair was matted with. He was offering her a leather-gloved hand, which she reluctantly took.The man helped Charlotte to her feet; he was smiling, not in a wolfishsort of way, which is what she has continually experienced since shehad been thrown out on the street. He seemed genuinely concerned forher.She stood shaking, leaning one hand on the cold damp brick wall forsupport. The man pulled a pristine white handkerchief from his pocketand dabbed it on her face. Grime and caked-on makeup soiled the cloth,now moist. More

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