‘How’s work going?’ I said. ‘Okay.’ He shrugged. ‘My boss is an ass.’ He left unsaid the obvious sequitur: But whose isn’t? ‘Well, i... you want him bricked into his office, you know who to call.’ ‘How’s your job going?’ ‘Same as always. The only reason my boss and I know what’s going on is because we can’t have our heads up our asses because the owner’s is already in there.’ Ernest snorted again, but now I was thinking about Brenda. Fireflies were streaking upward from the grass. Ernest and I. I felt the hard thick end of his dong bobbing up and down deep inside my guts near my belly button, with each massive flood of Kings Semen that was breeding me. I whimpered too, and cried like a Bitch in heat over and over as the continuous flaring spasms of his giant bulb against my churning gland pushed glob after glob of clear fluids from within me, my boy-juices running out my peckerhead in a constant stream as the trembling Doberman continued to cum. His heart palpitations were pounding. More

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