He open the cell and said stand up legs apart He took out a a thick felt pen and said stay still I need to write on you what you are so the whole cour...t knows what you are He took he pen and wrote WHORE on my tits belly legs bum back even on my for head in big red letters you could miss it HE said you will be taken to court like this and chain to the post out side so everone can see what you are I was begging please just a pair of painties YOU GET NOTHING YOU ARE A FCUKING WHORE he yelled he. I don’t know anything about desire or passion from personal experience. I know a lot of things in romance novels are not realistic and some are total fabrications, but I’m having the feelings of longing those books describe. When you look at my body, it feels like you are caressing me with your eyes. I need you to tell me what you are thinking when you look at me. I need to know, as honestly as you can tell me, exactly what you want when you look at me that way. Don’t worry about my judging you. He told her we would but she would have to do something special for us. She agreed and we started eating cock. She moaned a few times as we sucked each other and we saw her fingers disappear into her sopping box. My host asked if I could cum again if I came now and I told him that I could. I had never cum so many times before, three times so far and felt I could do it again and again. He sucked me off and swallowed my hot cum, then it was his turn, he pumped my mouth and filled me full of cum.. She would complain to me about it, and gripe about how those “dirty old men” kept looking up her skirt or down her blouse every chance they got. I encouraged her to put up with it, reminding her that looking at her and copping a feel was about the only sex life these poor old guys had. Actually, I secretly liked hearing her reports about her encounters at the nursing home. I would get a hard on as she told of old Bill Jensen slipping his hand under her skirt from behind and stroking her panty.