Priceless

Priceless

by Velvetglove

Author’s Note

With thanks to Richard for the email and inspiration.

Part Eight

Last weekend we went to Holland.

I’d negotiated for Sally to take the starring role in a couple of movies, so she, Gordon and I flew out on Thursday night, with Jan following on Friday evening.

I sat up front in Business with Sally three seats behind me in the front row of Economy and Gordon way behind in the back row of the plane. Towards the end of the short flight, I slipped into one of the economy lavatories, winking at Sally as I passed her. She squeezed into the cubicle after me and I lifted her skirt, fucking her in the stand up position leaning against the basin. While I was zipping myself up, there was a knock on the door.

I opened the door to see a travelling salesman-type, with his tie loose. His breath stank of beer.

“Hi.” I said, squeezing past him. He stared drunkenly at Sally. She was still adjusting her top, smoothing her skirt down.

“Hey ?” He mumbled at us.

I shrugged. “Sorry, mate.” I took Sally’s hand and pulled her out after me. “I’d love to let you have a go at her, but the pilot’s put the seat belt lights on.”

He stared at our backs as I escorted her to her seat. As she sat down I spotted a globule of my semen that had trickled below the hemline of her skirt.

The producer-director was a Dutch guy called Marcel. We struck a decent deal whereby he paid us higher than his usual rates, but he got more for his money. What’s more, Gordon was thrown in for free.

Marcel had a studio in the countryside, two miles from the nearest town, so it was very private. He picked us up in his car on Friday morning and we drove thirty minutes from our hotel. But there were already a half dozen cars and trucks parked round the back when we arrived. We walked into the reception area and it was full with about thirty guys, stood around drinking steaming mugs of coffee.

He smiled at me. “Coffee makes their sperm bitter.” He said under his breath. I looked at the guys; the vast majority were big, hairy, farmer types, in dungarees and denim, check shirts and beards.

Sally glanced at me apprehensively. I hadn’t involved her in the negotiations at all. She knew nothing of the deal I’d struck with Marcel or what was required of her.

We walked through to his small, cluttered office.

“Hey.” Marcel said to a hard-faced black dude with dreadlocks. He gestured at Gordon, speaking in Dutch. The black dude stood up and put his arm on Gordon’s shoulder, marching him out the room.

“Do whatever he says.” I called out after Gordon.

Marcel used his arm to push a load of papers off the desk onto the floor.

“Lie down there.” He said to Sally.

She looked at me again. I nodded. She climbed onto the desk.

Marcel stood between her knees and parted them. He lifted her skirt and thumbed the gusset of her thong out of the way.

“Nice, shaved fanny.” He commented, sliding a finger up her.

I sat down in the guest’s chair. “Yeah.”

He ran his hand over her tummy. “Four months ?”

“Give or take.” I replied. “We’re not sure exactly when it happened.”

“Let’s make a film when she’s eight months gone, yeah ?”

“If the price is right.”

He gave a gutteral chuckle. “You drive a hard bargain, my friend.”

I shrugged, watching him pat Sally’s hip.

“Turn over.” He said to her.

I moved my chair so I was sat at the end of the desk. I watched Sally’s face as she lay tummy-down on the desk. Marcel slid her thong down.

She whimpered as he spat on his fingers and lubricated her bottom.

“I’m sure you don’t mind a bit of butt fucking on the casting couch.” He said, leaning to whisper in her ear. “To get the main part.”

I bent forward and kissed Sally’s forehead. One thing I will say is that the past few months had been good for her 33 year old looks. She’d lost weight and toned up. Her long platinum hair was cut more provocatively, and she was wearing more mascara and lipstick. The crow’s feet round her eyes had been treated with botox and her teeth had been whitened.

Her face screwed up as Marcel’s dick began its assault.

He grunted hard with effort, thrusting his hips impatiently.

“Open up wide for him.” I twisted her hair. “Spread those fucking ass cheeks. And hold your fat tummy up off the table.”

He pushed hard and grinned at me appreciatively. “Oh, yah !”

I sat back and watched her hazel eyes as he rocked to and fro on her back. Marcel was no looker but he was sure as hell better than most of the guys lined up outside. In 48 hours Sally was going to be a true porno professional.

And I was her greedy, sleezy agent taking my hefty cut.

One hundred per cent !

*** *** ***

I love bukkake.

Always have. But the annoying thing is that politically correct porno values have turned what was originally a humiliation tool into a ridiculous cliché. The Japanese used bukkake as a way of punishing disobedient or unfaithful women where the entire male population of a village would ejaculate in her face, shaming her forever. No way did the chick enjoy it.

Nowadays you get all these videos and internet clips of ‘actresses’ moaning with delight as they get a facial, then rubbing the jizz into their skin like it was a moisturizer cream, mouthing ‘yum yum’ at the camera lens. As if the chick is enjoying it.

But Sally’s mouth was held wide open by a steel spider gag. There was a rubber ‘o’ ring to protect her teeth and then metal springs and bands that secured her jaws far apart. Inside, there was a steel tongue depressor that held her tongue down and ensured an open channel to her throat.

One camera was dedicated to Sally’s eyes. It was focussed right into them from above, giving the viewer a lovely insight into her mind.

No way was this chick enjoying it !

Her face swam with pools and streams of pearly fluid. Already about half the fifty or so guys who’d now arrived had deposited their first loads onto her face. Marcel told me ran a competition during scenes like this. The guys only earned a few Euros each for their roles but he offered cash prizes for the top three who produced the biggest loads. His regulars apparently loved the good-natured competition with each other and were skilled at eating right and abstaining for several days before a shoot.

As a result, some of the eruptions were massive. These big hairy guys, with big hairy guts, would jack off their big hairy dicks only inches above Sally’s head. Often they’d stand there two and three at a time, a couple beside her ears and one over her forehead, and squirt simultaneously.

Most aimed for the ‘o’ ring, leaning over to shoot thick white jets directly into her mouth. She couldn’t swallow or spit because of the gag and tongue depressor. The look in her wide eyes was a mix of alarm and distaste, as she snorted breaths in through her nose. Nice and slowly, gravity caused the cloying gunk to pool in the back of her mouth, before trickling down her throat. The slow journey allowed her buds to savour the taste and texture to the full. The guys knew their stuff; red meat, onions, garlic, alcohol, nicotine, coffee.

Others ignored the gag and uncoiled great ropes of jizz over her tummy, boobs, neck, face and hair. Sally’s pregnant state was showing via the slight bulge in her belly and an extra cup size in her bras. Her skin glistened and there was a gob of cum pooled in her belly button. She was tied on a long bench, with her arms stretched out above her head. Although she was topless, we’d left her dressed in her skirt and thong.

I glanced at my watch. So far, we’d been filming less than half an hour. There were five cameras rolling but Marcel reckoned to cut a lot of the footage, so we only had maybe five minutes of hardcore ‘money shots’ so far. Fortunately, there were plenty more guys and most of them would be up for two, sometimes, three orgasms.

I took a wander down the corridor. In the other studio, Gordon was having the finishing touches put to his makeup. Except that this was not some short term cosmetic fix. It was a long term makeover.

Four guys were mincing around him in the room; a hairdresser, a needle man, a tattooist and a makeup artist.

I couldn’t help laughing. Gordon’s head was now completely bald and it gleamed with a wax finish. He had big gold hoop earrings hanging down to his collar bones and a line of gold studs up one ear. There were smaller hoops in his nipples. His white body had been completely shaved and waxed. Most impressive of all was a full blown Prince Albert piercing of his penis, along with a one pound weight attached to it, hanging between his thighs.

The tattoo artist was just finishing a pink heart on Gordon’s right bicep with ‘buttfucking’ inscribed inside it in scarlet letters. There was now an enormous dragon on his bare back with its claws digging into Gordon’s buttocks and breathing a plume of fire between his cleft. Finally, in neat black capitals along the line of his front waistband was written; ‘if you want to fuck my wife sally, please ask my Master’.

Meanwhile, the make up guy had done a good job fixing a false moustache and goatee beard to Gordon’s face, making him resemble one of those characters in the Village People band.

“Good work, guys.” I congratulated them.

They smiled. Like all Dutch, they spoke pretty good English.

“How’s it going in there ?” one of them asked me.

I shrugged. “Fine. She’s getting a taste for it.”

He laughed. “He should too.”

“You want a go ?” I asked.

“Sure. No need to wait for filming to begin. Only a blowjob, right ?”

“For now, yeah.”

All four of them were obviously interested.

“Gordon.” I said, looking at him. “It’s time to earn your keep. I want you to suck these guys, right ? And do your best, or else. Clear ?”

His bleary eyes stared up at me, trying to focus. Marcel’s little tablet had done just enough to take away Gordon’s ability to concentrate and some of his inhibitions. His mind was in hallucinogenic, la-la land.

But his body was here, now.

The hairdresser was unzipping his tight black PVC jeans without any shame. His friends cooed and clucked as he extracted a thickening, circumsized penis and waved it in a circle in front of Gordon’s moustache.

“Mmm …” I whispered into Gordon’s ear. “Looks delish.”

His head rocked slightly and he slowly opened his mouth.

The hairdresser winked at me gratefully and put his hand round the back of Gordon’s shining head. He pulled Gordon’s lips onto his crown.

“Come on, Englander.” He said. “Make my day.”

I pointed to a small handheld camcorder on the table.

“Hey, film this for me guys, will you. Keep your faces out of it, if you like, but make sure his is in shot. I want to post a few to Gordon’s facebook.”

Back in the studio, there was a bit of a commotion. The place stank of sex and sweat. Marcel was shouting at one of the studs who’d shot his load all over Sally’s eyes. She had her eyes screwed shut and was twisting her head because of the stinging juice. Marcel wouldn’t have minded normally but for this flick we wanted the constant close up of her eyes, so that everybody could tell that her distress was real. Sure, you can tell that most crap porn actresses are only doing it for the money, but you don’t get to see inside their minds while they swoon about how lovely it all tastes.

Somebody mopped up Sally’s eyes sockets and the train continued to roll. She’d been well and truly messed up while I’d been down the corridor chatting to Gordon. I sat in the empty chair next to Marcel who was directing the scene. There were three fixed cameras and two roving ones operated by cameramen. He had six screens on his desk taking feeds from each camera. The sixth was linked to the internet.

I smiled. It was open at Google with two words in the search box; ‘semen taste’. Of course, there were endless sites offering advice about how to improve the taste of your semen, to make things nicer for your missus or girlfriends. You have to delve a little deeper to find help with making your manjuice less palatable.

On the closeup monitor, I could see Sally’s eyes staring straight up. What are you thinking my poppet ? Her facial expression was distorted by the tough gag that she’d now been wearing for quite a while. There was a pool of creamy jizz bubbling in the back of her mouth, slowly seeping away like the waters of a semi-blocked drain, only to be filled again by another spurting faucet. Her nostrils flared as she breathed in and out, inflating a bubble of semen in the trail running along her nose and upper lip.

Marcel turned and smiled at me, using his thumb and index finger to make a circle, signifying things were going just fine.

“This is valuable stuff.” He said. “The punters will gobble it up.”

I smiled, rubbing my own thumb and index finger together in the universal sign for cash. This porno business was easy. I looked at Sally taking another couple of loads all over her face and lips.

“Just like Sally !” I replied to Marcel.

We lunched in his office; a snack of beers, cold cuts, bread, cheese and fruit. I enjoyed watching a few minutes of the ‘rushes’ from each camera. Meanwhile, Sally had been taken to the ladies room to shower, clean up and get ready for the afternoon.

We could also watch a direct feed from the smaller studio. Over lunch, Gordon was starring in a gay short. He was bent over the back of a chair, head down, ass in the air, held in position with plastic cable ties. He had an over-sized red ball gag wedged in his mouth to prevent anything but drooling.

His first partner was a slim, obviously homosexual young man. Not an actor, just a guy who’d responded to our personal ad. He was running his delicate hands up and down Gordon’s hips, thighs and butt. A film assistant handed him a tub of lube and he gratefully dropped his pants, oiling up his erection and then the crinkled rose of Gordon’s asshole.

The kid had produced an AIDS-test certificate as he was obviously used to transacting in the gay community. I was happy to waive the use of a condom. With his new Village People look, I’m sure he thought Gordon was a very experienced bum-boy.

He skilfully prised open Gordon’s butt with his thumbs, adjusted his angle, and eased the head of his modest-sized dick into place. Marcel had installed one of those hidden, security mini-cameras under the chair, aimed directly at Gordon’s face. It was beautiful as he winced when the guy’s dick pushed through his sphincter muscle and into his butt. A few watery tears escaped out the corners of his eyes and splashed to the floor.

I chuckled and made a mental note to stand new framed photos of Gordon’s and Sally’s faces side by side at their bedside. I would have loads of shots to choose from.

His next partner was a big Turkish labourer, now living in Holland. He was wearing a stained, weightlifter’s shirt, knee-length shorts and trainers. He was bald but with a straggly beard, pierced eyebrows and a ring in one nostril. But the best bit was when he shucked off his shorts.

I’ve seen a few dicks in my time, including some whoppers, but this one took the Cuban cigar. Even limp it hung down the side of his balls like a salami sausage. Once it was jutting out from his hairy groin at full erection, it must have grown to getting on for 12 inches long.

The guy bit a plastic wrapper viciously and rolled a purple condom onto his length, though it only covered about two thirds. The first guy’s deposit was the only lubricant offered.

Marcel and I watched the screen transfixed. The roving cameraman had managed to lean in and film from only inches away, as the great purple dick forced its way through Gordon’s defiant but defenceless resistance. Load mewls of gagged displeasure filled the speakers.

Sally was made up and ready to go. She’d been given some bread, cheese and milk to recharge her batteries, then dressed in a bride’s white wedding dress, veil and all.

The movie was called ‘Fuck my pregnant bride’.

The opening scene of Gordon and Sally at the church would be filmed later and edited in.

For now, the main studio had been set up like hotel bedroom, with a double bed, bedside tables, TV, mini-bar, etc. Sally walked into the room in her wedding gear with three guys; a white, a black and an Asian.

This time we were testing her acting skills a little. Her role was to play the willing hot wife, celebrating her marriage to her cuckold boyfriend, by banging his mates while the reception continues downstairs.

They all sipped a champagne toast and then the guys undressed her, while she cooperated, teased and kissed them. Soon enough they had her veil, dress and shoes off, so she was on the bed in just her cream silk bra, thong and white stockings.

The action was predictable enough. She unzipped the black guy and sucked him while the other two undressed. The Asian undid her bra and fondled her jugs while the third man slowly peeled off her thong. Soon she was astride the Asian on the bed, slowly taking him into her ass, while he lay flat on his back and grinned happily through his spectacles. Once she’d got him wedged, she lay back and beckoned the black guy to mount her carefully. A camera zoomed on her mildly pregnant belly. Once the men had her in a sandwich, the white guy hunkered down by her head and fed her mouth his shaft.

It continued that way for a couple of minutes, with Sally moaning in pretend excitement, then they all switched positions. This time they spit-roasted her, with one guy in the doggie position, and the other fucking her face, while the third tugged roughly on her pendulous nipples.

Again, all change. Then the doorbell rang. An actor dressed as a waiter arrived with a room-service order. The white guy smiled and invited the waiter in to join the party. They left the door open, and shortly afterwards a fifth man arrived. He was older. The father of one of the bride’s friends. In seconds, he was stripping off his wedding tux, climbing onto the bed.

I couldn’t resist taking a look into the other studio. By now, there were a dozen guys standing around, some who’d already enjoyed Gordon’s hospitality, others waiting their turn. Gordon was untied now. He was bent over the arm of a sofa, with somebody in his butt and another feeding his face. Perfect symmetry ! A double spit-roast. Husband and wife in different rooms enjoying the same experiences.

After the five men had all cum, Marcel called a ‘wrap’ on Fuck my pregnant bride. Sally was sticky with sweat and semen and dressed in only her laddered stockings and pearl necklace.

“Well done. Sal. Nice work.”

She looked at me from the bed, too exhausted to express any emotion.

I took a one pound coin from my pocket and pressed it into her palm.

“Here’s a tip. Buy yourself something nice. Some soft tissues, maybe.”

She curled up into a foetal position.

“Go grab a shower.” I said. “You’re finished for today.”

*** *** ***

Late that night, Jan arrived. Her plane had been delayed. She was pooped so we ate room service on the balcony, watching the Dutch sunset.

Gordon and Sally ate what we’d ordered them from bowls on the floor in the bedroom, observing strict silence.

“What are you going to do about Gordon’s job ?” Jan asked.

I shrugged. “Why ?”

“He can’t work looking like that !” she giggled.

“He can. I’ve cleared it with Oscar.”

Oscar was Gordon’s boss. He was married but enjoyed occasional uncomplicated trysts with Sally. We’d agreed that ‘gay Gordon’ would have to give up a couple of key accounts and take a pay cut, but he’d still earn plenty for my requirements.

“Besides,” I added, “we’ve found a new way of earning good money.”

We finished our drinks and went in to the bedroom.

Jan beckoned Gordon over to her bedside. She’d become addicted to his fingers and tongue. She reached out and fingered his Prince Albert. It was the classic piercing from the outside of the frenulum into his urethra. The heavy weight had been detached and was in my suitcase.

She smiled and ran her fingertip along the tattoo on his waistline.

‘If you want to fuck my wife sally, please ask my Master’.

“Oh dear, Gordon.” She said. “What a pickle you’ve got yourself into.”

He bowed his head, looking at the floor. “Yes.” He mumbled.

She glanced at me, then spoke to him.

“Undress me.”

I left them and went through to our hotel bathroom. It was quite plush, with a marble bath, separate shower, twin basins and a toilet. I sat on the john and took a piss, before getting rid of the lunch we’d eaten. I wiped my ass and washed my hands, humming a little tune.

When I got back to the bedroom, Jan had sat astride Gordon’s upturned face, tilting her body to and fro sensuously. I gestured for Sally to join me on the bed, lying face up like her husband. She hesitated.

“Hurry !” I snapped.

Once she was in position, I knelt over her head, facing Jan. We kissed each other, smiling encouragement. I settled my weight down, feeling Sally’s nose slip right between my cheeks.

“Damn … this is hot …” Jan gasped, tongue-kissing me.

“Mmm …”

“You really are … corrupting me.”

“Nonsense.” I smiled. “You’re a nurse.”

She laughed. Her nipples were rock hard as he leaned into me.

I shifted position, taking my weight a little. I looked between my legs.

“Tongue.”

Jan grinned and imitated me, rocking back slightly on her heels.

“Tongue.”

Sally and Gordon did as they were told. I could tell his tongue had only been licking beforehand. Now it was burrowing deep inside Jan. She shuddered against me as we entwined tongues. I felt her fingers reaching down, circling my hardening erection.

“Is this for me ?” Jan gasped. “Or her ?”

I replied by kissing her harder, my hands stroking her boobs. I wanted Jan more than ever before. Her enjoyment of our slave couple had reassured me that we had a long term future. If she’d been too small-minded, sexually conservative, or jealous, she’d probably have lost me. But now I could imagine her being my soulmate forever.

“It’s yours. Whenever you want it.”

She inhaled. Her fingers stroked my scrotum lightly. I could feel her brushing Sally’s forehead and my balls simultaneously. I smiled and leaned back, taking my weight on my outstretched hands.

Jan looked down at Sally, pushing my balls out of the way.

“Hear that, slut ? This dick’s … mine.”

Her index finger slid up my shaft, making me shudder. There was a gleam in her eyes. She rose up, on her haunches, and shuffled off Gordon’s face, before rooting her hot, wet cunt on my dick.

Our combined weights squished Sally’s head and she groaned.

Jan leant down to one side. “Shut up and tongue-fuck his ass !”

I kissed her again. It was sensational. Sensual overload. A tongue up my shithole and my dick in a greedy lovebox.

Jan twisted her head away. “Get up and stand by the bed.” She ordered Gordon. We watched him stagger to his feet. Her juices glistened on his face and bald head.

“I’m sorry, d … darling.” I gasped. “I’m going to …”

I was losing it. I’m proud of my self control but just occasionally the moment takes over, especially if I haven’t cum for twelve hours or more.

Jan hissed. “Yesss ! Cum. Don’t worry. Just fill me up.”

So I did. I let go, feeling her muscles contracting as I blew my load.

Jan lay back on the pillows. She’d never tried a woman’s tongue before.

Sally grovelled between her thighs, lapping up every drop of my mess.

Meanwhile, Gordon was lying on the hotel bedroom floor, face up, with his ass in the air and his ankles above his ears.

“Faster.” I said.

He was jacking off his pierced dick, pumping frantically.

“Slower.”

I watched him grimace and control his arm, decelerating his hand movements. I smiled and took another photo. His ass was in the shot, the rim still loose and red.

“Stop !” I instructed Gordon.

I waited, while Jan gasped, building up to her second, noisy climax. Her hands were twisted in Sally’s straggly hair, pulling her head against Jan’s bucking thighs. Meanwhile, Gordon remained motionless in his uncomfortable, inverted pose.

“Wait, while your betters enjoy their orgasms.” I told him.

I gave it a good minute, until Jan had come down and composed herself.

“Start again.”

Gordon began pumping, gradually picking up speed.

“Don’t cum without permission.” I reminded him.

“Pl … please …” he wailed.

“No !” I shouted. “Control your fucking self. Don’t cum.”

His eyes roved around, looking up, trying to focus on me. They pleaded.

“I … please … I … c … can’t …”

“In your face, then.” I said. “Mouth open and dump it all on your face.”

His hand moved in a blur. Then he opened his jaws and curled his lips wide apart. Suddenly an arc of semen splattered down onto his forehead.

I was ready. I leaned over and yanked his arm, pulling his hand away from his dick.

“Nnnooommgh …” he moaned.

His penis kept shooting, like an uncontrolled gun. I pressed down on his buttocks, pushing his dick nearer his red face. Spurts continued to scatter all over his bald head, snorting nose, flushed cheeks and open mouth.

His hand hovered over his twitching dick, wanting to finish his orgasm properly. He peered desperately at me through his own mess.

“Don’t you dare. You’re lucky I let you cum at all. Wait there.”

I watched him lying, ass in the air, as his penis dribbled the remainder of his load onto his face. I grabbed a bottle of water from the mini-bar and walked over to Jan who was smiling at me in post-orgasmic bliss.

“Sleepy ?” I asked.

She nodded.

I slid my hand up between her thighs and pushed my finger inside her, then pulled it out. It was still soaking wet but there was no sign of creamy jizz. Sally had done a good clean-up job. I pushed her aside. “Go sleep on the bathroom floor hon’. We’ll see you in the morning.”

Then I grinned at Jan and sniffed my own finger.

“Mmm, finger-lickin’ good !”

The next morning, Marcel had uploaded a few clips and shots of the new movies onto the promotional, free area of his website.

Sally and Gordon stared at us, dumbfounded. Their names, ages and potted biographies were all up there in glorious technicolor. There was also an email address for ‘fan mail’.

I scratched my finger under Sally’s chin as I would a dog.

“Only I have the password to that email account. But from now on, dear, you’re going to answer all your fan letters. I’ll read them and decide which ones you maybe invite to meet you. After all, a star should mingle with her fans.”

She screwed up her face. “Please …”

Gordon threw his arms out in frustration. “Look … Sir. This has all gone too far … please, we can’t take any m …more …”

His voice cracked and petered out. He fell onto his knees.

Jan glanced at me apprehensively. Marcel simply shrugged.

I stared at Gordon, letting him read the meaning in my eyes. He blinked. It was for a moment like this that I’d taken out the extra insurance. Gordon had stolen six figures. Committed fraud. Implicated Sally. As he’d written on his blog; they didn’t have any choice but to play this game out now until the end.

I slapped him across the face. A crisp smack, then a backhander with my knuckles. He gasped and his fingers flew up to his cheeks.

“Tell Sally that you both have no choice.” I ordered, coolly.

He was crying, silent tears. “W … we have no ch … choice, love.”

She sobbed, also falling to her knees, clutching my ankles. “Pleeeease.” She begged. “I know we don’t have a choice. But have some mercy !”

I turned to Marcel. “We’re losing time. We’d better get a move on, hadn’t we ?”

Ten minutes later, Sally was stretched out facedown on a special fucking bench. Her ankles and wrists were tied outstretched, and her mouth was gagged. Gordon was gagged as well, hogtied on the floor, staring up at us helplessly.

I stood at the end of the bench, wiping Sally’s cheeks, soothing her. I flicked away a tear and pushed flyaway hairs out of her eyes.

“It’s about new experiences.” I said.

There was a loud bark. At that moment, Marcel walked in, holding a leash with a large dog attached. It didn’t seem to be a pedigree breed. It resembled a cross between a Black Labrador and a German Shepherd.

“Meet Bud !” Marcel announced, fighting to control the skittish hound.

I peeked down at Gordon and winked. He was trying to speak, his cheeks puffed and red with rage.

Sally was looking up at me, eyes wide. I nodded at Jan who leaned over and began applying the ointment to Sally’s cunt. It was a mix of lube and canine bitch pheromones.

I sighed, shaking my head mock-sadly at Sally.

“For all that you do, this Bud’s for you !”

End of Chapter Eight