They seemed to disagree at first but third guy counters in English with one convincing sentence: "Think how humiliated the stupid slut would be." They... don't say more and I can't see what is going on except that third guy moves closer and stands to next to mouth guy. I can see him still stroking his cock which has grown quite stiff now and then it moves closer to my already filled mouth. He rubs it around my face degradingly, slapping me with it, poking it into my eyes and nostrils, then. “What do you say?” I asked teasingly.“Let me see your tits,”I raised an eyebrow.“Please, mummy, dear. Can I see your tits?” he said. I grinned and removed the bra, letting it drop to the floor. I opened my arms wide so he got the full view.“You like?” I said. He nodded. “Then why don’t you come here and remove the last item.”He climbed from the bed and came over to me. I expected him to just kneel and pull them down but instead he put his arms around me and pulled me close and kissed me. Christ, I didn't even like myself. > Mr. Black gave me the chance to change all of that. I read stories about Mr. Black, accounts of his adventures as set down by a friend of his, an author named dale10. Then, at a > bar in London, I had by some great good fortune, a chance to meet dale10, and we became sort of friends. I say sort of, because he really had little interest in me, while I was all over him and desperately wanted him for a friend. I knew he might be a link to the kind of sex I was. "Have you ever done any modeling?" he asked. "Just private modeling for men," I said. "We need a lingerie model to work the bar from five until midnight," he said. "She sells raffle tickets each hour and at the end of every hour she holds a drawing." "Drawing for what?" I replied. "For a blow job from the model while everybody in the bar watches." I was instantly interested in the "modeling" job. It seemed like a fun job and an easy way to meet lots of men. The fact that the job would allow me.