"That's 'Three-F,'" he blurted out a trifle too loudly. Fortunately, the ambient noise in the room was louder, still, and his outburst went unheard by...all save Heather. "What an unusual name," she replied. "Tell me more." "That's not his name," Jason whispered back, "it's a nickname. His name's Lance Hapwell." "Well, don't keep me in suspense; why the nickname?" "It's based on his motto -- 'Feed 'em, fuck 'em, forget 'em.'" "Well," Heather said, a look of total wantonness forming on her face,. ” She looked at his eyes as her tongue peeked out of her lips tentatively licking the tip of this finger before swirling her tongue around its length and sucking it in. She slurped and licked and sucked looking at his face to see if he approves with her actions. His lips curve upwards to show his approval, his other hand stretching and tugging her nipple. “Does this feel good bitch?” She nodded her agreement and whimpered and said, “Master, please let me suck your cock.” Her hands reached out. Later you lay alone on your bed or couch. As you relax you recall the trigger clearly as if it just happened. Again your penis stirs. It demands attention. You may fight it, but your mind keeps returning to disturbing, very female, images: A well-filled sweater, a short skirt, or long smooth legs. If you fight further your thoughts turn to bouncing breasts, erect nipples, panties, long legs ending at a tight round ass, or a spread ready pussy. It is a hopeless resistance—you unzip your pants. "They won't give me a mirror." It's pretty bad," I admitted. "But you're alive. It'll get better."She nodded, wincing a little as she did so. "Are you alone?" Yeah," I answered, coming over and grabbing a seat next to the bed."I thought you might come by alone," she said. "I was kinda hoping for it." Oh?" I lied to the cop, Bill," she told me, her voice hitching, tears running from her good eye as she began to cry. "I remember everything that happened. Every last fucking thing."She broke down.
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