I ran my tongue up and down the ever-growing length, eager to free this b**st from the confines of the fabric and taste his raw meat."You want that co...ck, don't you bitch?" Jack said."Yes I do," I whimpered."You will refer to me as "Sir", maggot. Now put your hand up inside my shorts and stroke me," he insisted.I ran my hand up inside his shorts and lightly grasped his fat appendage. My hand barely reached around his massive girth even though his cock was far from fully erect. I stroked his. The next time was one day I come home and my mother hands me a case of beer and says "go next door and ask if Dawn can place this in her fridge for sundays party" so like a little k** getting the keys to the candy store I run over next door as fast as I can and knock on the door its about 9 at night so its late at night and then Dawn answers the door and my jaw drops and my pants rise as she is wearing a pink dressing gown and it straining to hold the gigantic tits that hide behind so I stutter. It wasn't meant to be a bad thing, because that's what all of them were hoping to become, you could say they were all in training. No, rich bitch was a lifestyle. It included days at the country club, with drinks starting at lunchtime, unless there were bloody Marys or screwdrivers available earlier. For many of them, there was a variety of pills that helped them "cope with things." Thank God my mother hadn't gone that far and was able to pace herself with the drinks so she didn't became. There was no sign of Beatrice so Paul was very soon bored.Paul left the confines of the Research Centre after only an hour or so of wandering around. No one had much time to put aside for him and indeed seemed quite alarmed at the prospect of him disturbing their concentration with a naive question or, worse, by clumsily knocking over their equipment. The scientists' relief when Paul chose not to bother them was quite palpable. But they didn't need to worry. If there was anything that Paul.