Brad was tormented. I wouldn’t have to think about that bitch. But think about her he did… “Damn, man? You’re not marrying that stripper are...you?” Brad remembered his best friend’s words. “Fuck her for two weeks, dude. A fuck fling, she’s a stripper! Two weeks then move on.” I got so god-dammed mad at him. Brad punched his fist into the palm of his hand. That fucker was right. “He was fucking god-dammed right!” Brad shouted as loud as he could. The memory was painful. He hadn’t seen any of. “Oh yes, I can see that!” she giggled and sat next to her husband, taking over jerking his fat cock with her delicate hands. “How long has she been fucking?”“Three weeks now,” my wife said. “She’s come a long way for sure.”“I’m so jealous of your rotty Dorris, Paul and I have been thinking about getting a dog for ourselves,” Melinda went on to say, watching as I stroked Sandy’s mound. “Oh you should!” Dorris said excited, and sat down at the table as well. “He’s got the most wonderful cock!”. More

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