”Dianne knelt down and extracted the engorged 7¼-inch prick. It was incredibly fat, one of the girthiest she’d ever seen. She struggled to fit it... into her mouth.“Damn, faggit,” groaned the aggressor. “Suck dat dick, bitch! Dat’s it, hoe!”She gave it her all.“Stand up and turn around,” Fat Tony ordered. He spat on his finger and worked it into Dianne’s rectum. He pushed his meaty cock inside of her.“Oh my god,” she wailed.“Take dis nigga dick, bitch!”“Yes, sir!”“Yo old ass got some good. I hated her for the way she treated him. “If you are leaving, I am leaving.” I told him matter of fact. “No you need to stay here,” he pushed me away slightly. “If you don’t take me with you,” I tried to think of a good threat quickly. “I will just leave anyways.” “No you will not,” he yelled at me. “You will go right upstairs and go to bed.” “I will do no such thing,” I defended myself. “I am seventeen, not five. Stop treating me like I am a child.” “You are a child,” he cried defeated. “You. We took the precaution a month ago to set the kennel phone line to an outside ringer so we could hear it if we were outside with dogs in training or just doing our normal life activities. Not that we would run to pick it up but we would know there would be a message waiting. If we were going to run the kennel as a quasi-business, we should probably take phone calls and messages quasi-serious.Helen got up and started off the patio when I challenged her, “The message can wait. Why don’t you rest. And, as we departed, we did encounter her wheel her trolley back into the store with only one item left in it. The first conversation in the attached story is verbatim as I recall it, the rest of the story is pure fiction. I have changed the names to protect the innocent and guilty alike.Shopping’s a chore I abhor, so only I accompany my wife Penny when my work shifts allow. Although we drive for a monthly stock-up at the out of town hypermarket across the county line, and a weekly trolley-ful.