A shard of wood had gone through the right sideof his chest, just below his shoulder. Smoke and sawdust filled hisevery breath, and he hacked out blo...od.And then he saw the boy.He was blood-soaked and skinny, about 16 or 17, with a short red mohawkon his head and a landmine strapped to his chest (although the thinglooked too rusted to be any good). Grenades were attached the belt thatwas holding up his leather shorts. Even with filthy, bare feet, hedidn't seem to mind that he was standing on. Bland no more, she looked totally sluttish. I was shocked. And strangely turned on.With her pants gone, I could now clearly smell Beth’s sex. I think she was enjoying this.“Perfect,” I said, trying to sound nonplussed.“More coffee?” she responded, turning towards the stove, her lovely broad ass on full display._______________________ Things went on much like this for the next few weeks.Beth never wore yoga pants – or a t-shirt – in the apartment again. Whenever we crossed paths there, she was. Masturbating was his only companion. It helped take the edge off, but he badly needed the real thing. He needed a woman.Never in his forty-one years had he paid for a woman. Circumstances changed that. Howard fired up his laptop and began a search with one goal in mind, to find the prettiest and youngest girl to fuck.He tried Backpage where they had censored all of the adult categories. He found the escort services had moved to the "women> men" section offering massages. Howard found nothing he. It did smell nice but again it smelled so feminine. I asked him about work and everyone smelling me. "Carla, don't worry about it, so what if they do, you just will smell as sweet as you are," Randy said. This was now the 4th time at least that he called me Carla. I wasn't thrilled with the name change but figured I would go along with it for now. After he rubbed the last of the lotion all over my body, he told me my clothes were on the bed.I proceeded to the bedroom and saw on the bed, a.