"A hand job…" He whispered in my ear. “A simple one…”A simple stroke job, I thought to myself… and I could go my way. It probably would not ...take long… I had not seen his face in the darkness; so I could not even identify him…It sounded better than being taken in the ass…I finally nodded and sniffled back some tears."I will let go your arm, but my knife will not leave your throat”. I just nodded again, understanding…"Remember now, we have a deal, bitch...”He used his free hand to unzip his. So I kneel in supplication, and begin to pleasure myself. I begin to touch myself. My slit is exposed, open, and the wetness is overwhelming. I probe that wetness with my index finger, and then raise it to my lips. I gently trace my lips with that wetness. I imagine the taste of it to be his. He is spread before me as I pleasure him with my mouth and tongue...Oh God how I want to experience that! To simply kneel before him and bury my face between his legs. Any patience that I had before is. You're going all ADD on us," Meagan scolded. "Besides, we've got a question before we pose again." Oh no!" Debbie wailed. "You're not going to pose if you don't like my answer!" Maybe," Meagan admitted. "But I want an honest answer. That painting where Peter and I were nude at a beach, did you doctor it to have Peter ejaculating in his sleep?"Debbie gasped, "How did you find out? Did you take a key and drive over to the storage area?" Mom! We're not stalkers! I don't know where your storage. They wanted to hear every detail of every cock I’d taken up my ass and down my throat while there. The telling turned them on so it required frequent fuck breaks in the story so they could take turns plowing my ass or fucking my throat. What really turned them on was my telling of Longjohn’s van and getting fucked with his giant cock in the airport garage, so I wasn’t too surprised a few weeks later when they came home one evening with a beat up panel van that they’d bought for $500.They spent.