He went back to his apartment after fucking that no-name chick and drinking himself into a stupor. He was thirty-nine years old today, at least he had...a reasonable excuse for his debauchery this time. He went to bed in his clothes, again. He smelled of whiskey, cigarettes and white trash pussy. It was almost glorious in its own disgusting way.Chapter TwoAt four-twenty-fucking-three AM he woke up to a ringing phone. The ominous ringtone he assigned to the company so, when he heard it said,. The room was on fire with a rising crescendo of sexualmusic that inspired his energy and imagination. Hisaunt was cooing incessantly beneath him, like somesilly virginal teenager achieving her first orgasm.She was whispering at his ear again as she ferociouslyarched upward against his driving cock. Her words werelike sweet wine to his spirit, words of love and praisefor the pleasure he now shared with her.It seemed he had only just entered his aunt’s tight,hot pussy, and yet she was. More

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