It seems like I'm always bitchin' about it to her, but it does no good. Like I said, I'm not a neat freak, but I like things to be at least a little b...it orderly. So I constantly find myself picking up after her. I'm constantly picking up and putting away her clothes. I feel like I'm constantly loading and unloading the dishwasher. I'm always having to put away her stuff in the bathroom. It's really been becoming frustrating to me - it's not like I've got all the time in the world to take care. I also made sure to clean out my ass. Nothing worse than shit on a stick. Once I was satisfied with my hygiene, I put on a loose pair of shorts and a t-shirt. No underwear here. Going commando tonight. One less thing to remove later.The guys showed up right on time. Since they got to the door at the same time, the introductions took care of themselves. I got us all a beer and we sat in the living room to discuss the evening. I told them she would be home around 7pm. I said it didn't matter who. They could cross, yes, and she was sure a few of the women she saw around her doing laundry, bathing, had done so. With water so close, a little extra walking would not be a deterrent. The wagons would switch sides the following night, allowing equal access to all.Deciding she had soaked long enough, the cold not THAT good for her aching muscles, Shanna pushed herself up. She stood, knee deep next to the riverbank, water dripping from her brown skin. She ignored the eyes of the women around. Pushing past her tongue he went straight for the back of her throat. With practiced effort she accepted his large cock allowing it to pass into her throat. Instantly blocking off her airways. Her eyes began to well up with unwanted tears. "1, 2, 3 , 4" she counted the seconds he held her there with her nose buried in his crotch. "8, 9" he released her, pulling her back by her hair. He stared down at her with a alcoholic glaze in his eyes. " you like that don't you whore!?" and then he impaled.