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. sorry. " He sighed. "I'm trying to get the bank statement balanced, and I'm having trouble finding some of the receipts, and I don't know where Kate puts things, and I don't really know what I'm doing in the accounting program. And when I get this done, Gary wants me to run a report on his investments. And there are bills to be paid. And the tax guy in San Diego has his panties in a wad. And none of the crew has been paid this month yet, and Henri's getting a bit crusty about it ... Other than that, I'm just chillin'" Can I help?" I asked. I'd had an accounting course in high school, and had gotten an A..."No. Yes. Maybe. I don't know ... I'm a fucking nurse, Saralinda. And my aikido black belts don't help me here either. Nor does my god-damned chauffeuring license."He sounded like he was about to cry. There were papers heaped on all of the work surfaces, not even in piles. Just then, the fax machine started up, and as Jake and I watched, three pages slowly printed out, only to slip. I felt something on my lower body. I opened my eyes to see Ella sucking on my cock.“I wanted to pay you back for the fucking yesterday,” she said, looking at me with lust in her eyes.I told her to keep going and she started sucking me like her life depended on it. After enjoying it for a few minutes, I sat up and pushed her off of me.“Let’s review: Friday I ate you out. Saturday I fucked your pussy and took your virginity.”“Where are you going with this?” she asked me.“Well, what’s the only thing left?” I asked her.“You don’t mean…”“Yes, anal,” I cut her off.“You’re gong to fuck my ass?” she asked with a look of terror on her face.“Are you questioning me, slut?” I asked in my stern voice as I pushed her down on her back.“No Master, never,” she replied, still looking scared.“Well you did a good job getting me all wet, so it shouldn’t hurt you too much,” I said as I stroked my hard cock.“Would like me in doggie, Master?” she asked.“No, I want to look into your eyes while I rip open.
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This girl was trashed. Between the seats was a cup of vodka and cranberry juice, which explained why she was so wasted. We exited the car after she parked it on her front lawn. As we entered the house, I got a good look at the place (I can see rather well in low-light situations). Quaint, I said. Quaint? What does that mean? (See what I meant about arguments?) I didnt mean that in a sarcastic manner. The place is nice, cozy. It wasnt an insult. Oh, well whatever. Where do you want to sit? I didnt really care, but it wasnt my house, so I asked anyway. She dropped onto the couch and put her drink on a table at one end. I sat beside her, and for some stupid reason I began to chat about work and other unrelated items, at one point, I did ask her how long her family would be gone. She got up at one point to re-fill her cup, and when she returned her mind was not at all on small talk. So, she began, are we gonna do this or what? Finally, the go-ahead was given. I leaned over and started.

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