”“I'm not a slut, Billy!” she protested. “I didn't freak out about the bet because I was sure I was going to win!”“Jenny,” he said softl..., smiling gently, with that look that gave her butterflies all over again. “You lost. You know what you have to do, don't you?”She looked at him, begging with her eyes, but she saw no relief in his smile. “I can't do this. Please help me, Billy? I can't do this!”They were in his bedroom, where he'd brought her after the game, in order to settle up. She walked. One black guy, four white guys including the cameraman. They all have thick Yorkshire accents which initially he finds comical and intimate; this shit could be going on down the street. It is quite a humble gathering for what is purportedly a bukkake. Gillis remembers the emetic glories of Bukkake Olympics which had fifty guys, mostly tattooed hirsute biker types with dick piercings; wank off over a care worn looking woman garlanded with a medical dog collar. Hell, five men was half the number. More

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