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The attached work of fiction is intended to be entertainment for
adults in locations in which it is legal.  If it is illegal in your
location, DO NOT read.  This is a copyrighted work.  Reposting or any
other use strictly prohibited without the express, written permission
of the copyright holder, except may by posted as part of a  review or
posted to free-access, noncommercial archive sites.

Copyright 1998 by E. Z. Riter.

Please!  Give me your comments.

E-mail address: ezriter@hotmail.com


MY BOSS' SLUT

Part Nine (Conclusion)

Over the next three weeks, our lives were pretty much like any typical
American family.  I went to work each week day at the office where Mr.
Williams was my boss.  Becky went to her job in her townhouse as a
professional slut where she would fuck between two and six of the club
members each day.  Usually, Trudy would have dinner with us. Then,
after dinner, the three of us would visit and have sex together.
After Trudy went home, Becky and I would cuddle in bed, falling asleep
in each other's arms. 

I had never imagined my sex life would be this good.  I could not even
believe that Becky was so hot because before she became my boss' slut,
our sex life was mediocre.  But, not only did I have a world class
slut, my wife, in my bed each night, I had Trudy, too.  Trudy was
sweet, as sweet as my darling Becky.  She was more shy and not as good
in bed but, she was still damn good.

Trudy really surprised me in the way she opened up with Becky. The two
of them enjoyed making love, as they called it.  I enjoyed watching
them, seeing their bodies, smelling them. I knew Trudy wanted no more
than the three of us though.  She made that very clear.  For her, Mr.
Williams, Becky and I were the limit.  That was fine, too.  Not
everyone is a world class slut like my Becky.

One night Becky was in the bathroom after dinner.  Trudy and I were in
the kitchen cleaning up when we heard an ear piercing shriek. Becky
came running into the kitchen wild eyed.

"Blue! Look! Blue!"

She collapsed on the floor and began to sob. Trudy and I ran to her,
still unaware of the cause of her anguish. 

"My home pregnancy test is blue! I am pregnant! Pregnant, Bobby.  Oh,
god, I have waited so long."

The three of us sobbed and held each other, our joy at Becky's
pregnancy more than we could stand.

The next day a test at the doctor confirmed it. Becky was pregnant.
She was pregnant, a child growing in her womb. Of course, we did not
know which of the seven men who gambled on her impregnation was the
father or what race the baby would be but, we did not care.  Becky was
pregnant.  I was so thrilled for her, and so was Trudy.  

After Becky told my boss, Mr. Williams, of her joy, he scheduled a big
party for that next Saturday afternoon at his club to celebrate
Becky's pregnancy.  Trudy and I went to the mall when Becky left in
Mr. Williams limo.  Becky was so happy she pranced down the sidewalk
and flashed her shaved pussy and pierced pussy at Mr. Gleason before
jumping in the car.

Poor Mr. Gleason.  Becky did tease him terribly, allowing him only an
infrequent blow job to quench the flames she built in him. I just
realized that was unfair to Becky.  She was not a tease.  She was just
so sexual and slutty that every man who saw her wanted her.  They made
me proud.  Everyone wanted my wife but only Mr. Williams, the men who
chose to give her to, and I had her.

Becky was happy not only because she was pregnant. She was happy
because her pregnancy meant she could fuck all twenty-five of the club
members without them wearing condoms.  She was very excited about
that. 

"And without condoms.  I am pregnant so they can all splash their cum
in me.  Oh, Bobby, I do love  cum in me," she giggled as she was
dressing.

About two months later, Trudy moved in with us. She was a great help
to Becky during her pregnancy.  Both Becky and I enjoyed sex with
Trudy.   The three of us slept in the big king-sized bed in our
bedroom. She was a real member of our family.

For the duration of Becky's pregnancy, our lives were normal.  Until
she started her ninth month, Becky went to work every day just like
Trudy and I did.

Becky delivered a beautiful, healthy baby boy. The timing showed the
funnel and comb had done the trick. 

When I visited the hospital about three days after the baby was born,
Becky was sitting up in bed nursing the baby.  We had not named him
yet.  Her tits were even bigger than they had been and full of rich,
thick milk which Mr.Williams, Trudy and I had already sampled.  Becky
had enough milk for us all. Becky was smiling up at me, happiness and
sweetness radiating from her.  I preferred she watch the baby. I would
have hated it if that massive tit crushed him.

"Bobby, I have decided on a name for him.  I call going to name him
Robert Edward Jones, Jr., after you."

While I was honored my wife wanted another man's baby to have my name,
I had other plans.

"No, Becky.  We are going to name him and the others after their
fathers, whoever they may be."

"Oh, Bobby.  Are you sure?"

"Yes."

"I like that, Bobby. It is so slutty.  We will always think of the
father when we call our child's name. But, I want to name him now and
we don't know his father yet."

"Yes, we do.  The DNA tests came back today."

She jerked, which squeezed a breast, I mean tit, which forced a surge
of milk down the baby, which made him choke. She patted his back
lovingly and returned him to his meal.

"Who is it?" she asked excitedly.

"His father is Charles Williams."

"Horse? Horse! Oh, Bobby, how wonderful.  I was praying Horse would
father the first one.  Can we call the baby Charlie?"

"No, Becky.  Let's call him Colt."

"Oh, Bobby. That is perfect. Colt.  Little Colt, sired by Horse.
Darling, little, baby, Colt."

She stroked the man-child hardily nursing as her massive teat
lovingly, her face with the radiance of a mother, the happy mother she
was. She looked up at me. A sexy smile crossed her face.

"If he is hung like his father, we will have to call him Stallion when
he is grown."

I knew my Becky loved Charles Williams' big cock.  I knew of the
twenty-five men fucking her (twenty-six if you include me), Horse's
cock was the biggest.  That is why he was called Horse.  But, Becky
and Horse had a very special relationship that extended beyond sex.  I
think they loved each other.

Becky glanced up with a devilish expression in her eye.

"If he is hung like his father, I think his mother will have to
introduce him to sex."

I gasped. "Are you joking?"

"No.  Mothers need to teach and help their children, don't they? I
will introduce them all, boys and girls. Bobby, none of them could
have a better teacher than I am.  I mean, I am a teacher and a slut.
Who better to teach sex ed?"

I could not tell if she was joking or not.  The little glimmer in her
eye made me believe she was teasing, but something about the way she
said it made me think she was serious.  I had years to think about
that.

Horse was so overjoyed at the baby being his, he wept. His son and my
boss, Mr. Williams, seemed very happy, too. It occurred to me that
Colt was my boss' brother, or half brother anyway.  I had wondered how
he felt about Becky bringing his brother into the world rather than
his son. If it bothered him, he never showed it.

The next year, and the one after it, produced the same cycle.  Becky
would be fertilized by the men making the bet, six the second year,
five the third, since the winner of the previous year's bet dropped
out of the process.  Becky would get pregnant.  We all continued our
work routines.

The second child was Jade Li Jones, named by Mr. Li, who won the bet
that year, after his grandmother, the clan matriarch who emigrated
from China two generations ago.

The third was Anna Maria Martinez Jones, named for two lovely Hispanic
ladies, the grandmothers of Mr. Martinez, the child's father.  After
the winner was announced, Mr. Martinez arrived at the hospital with
his wife, five children by her and our baby's two namesakes to bless
and welcome the new arrival.

No man ever had two such beautiful, happy, healthy and wonderful
daughters as I did. And, none had such a fine son as Colt.  

Colt had been born in June, Jade in late April, and, Maria in
February, of three consecutive years.  Becky was dropping babies every
ten or eleven months.  Although she was very happy and healthy, the
deliveries and her profession tired her.  Trudy quit working for Mr.
Williams two months before Maria was born. She stayed home to care for
the children, allowing Becky to continue her profession, and me to
continue in mine.  I had received some nice promotions in the
intervening years.  My status and income were significantly higher.
So was my work load.

It had been a wonderful, idyllic life.  Becky was eight months
pregnant with the fourth child when a tragedy occurred, a tragedy
which altered our lives significantly.     

I was at the office when the phone rang.  It was Becky.  She sounded
hysterical.

"Bobby! Bobby! I'm at the hospital.  Oh, god, Bobby. Horse has had a
heart attack!"

I broke the news to Mr. Williams, my boss, and Horse's son.  He rushed
to the hospital as did I.  Becky was in the CCU waiting room. Becky
looked terrible and forlorn. Her makeup, always put on thickly since
she was a slut, was running down her face. Her hair was a fright.

She had been wearing a bra since Colt was born, a nursing bra, since
she had been constantly nursing one child or another for almost four
years. It was her intention to nurse each child for two years, so she
was still nursing Jade and Maria. Truthfully, she still took Colt to
her breasts sometimes, letting the boy share in her bounty. Her milk
laden breasts were a EEE.

She was without that bra now.  Her breasts were high and firm and
huge.  Milk was pouring from her. The milk had soaked her blouse which
was only a piece of see through cotton.  It was running down to her
micro-mini-skirt, which was askew.  

"Oh, Bobby," she wailed when she saw me.  She threw her arms around me
and collapsed.  I helped her to a seat just as Mr. Williams came in.
She was sobbing but trying to hold it in.  She was so distraught she
could not help the tears. We all were distraught. 

A young doctor walked out of the unit toward us.

"Are you the family of Charles Williams?"

"Yes. I am his son," my boss replied.

The doctor had not looked at any of us except Becky.  He could not
pull his eyes away from those tits of hers.  In fact, every man in the
waiting room and a good part of the floor staff has taken up positions
to stare at Becky. She was oblivious to them which told me how
distraught she really was.  My Becky, being a true slut, loved to have
men stare at her. If she realized they were looking, she would be
showing off herself to them. 

"Was anyone with him when the heart attack occurred?" the doctor
asked.

Becky nodded as she wiped her tear stained face with a cloth.

"What was he doing?"

"We were fucking," Becky sobbed in a loud voice.  

The waiting room got extremely quiet. I could see men staring at us,
mouths open and eyes wide.

"You were having sex? I find that hard to believe.  Mr. Williams is
eighty-four."

Becky jumped up, her little fists clenched, arms rigid by her side.
She screamed in the doctor's face.

"That eighty-four-year-old man is the father of my three-year-old son.
He has a cock like a baseball bat. I mean size and hardness.  And, he
has the heart of a gentle lion.  Don't you demean him in my presence!" 

Becky collapsed to the seat again, sobbing audibly.  A murmur of
voices floated over the waiting room, probably discussions of Becky's
revelation. The doctor was shaken.

"I am sorry, Miss . . . " the doctor sputtered. 

"Mrs. Jones.  Becky Jones.  I am Bob Jones, her husband," I
interrupted.  The doctor looked stunned. The murmurs started again.

"Mrs. Jones.  I meant nothing derogatory.  Can you tell me, did he
give any indication of the attack?  Did he say anything that might
help us?"

"Oh, oh.  Poor Horse.   He said real loudly 'Oh, God. I am coming.'  I
though he was having an orgasm. I did not know he meant he was going
to Heaven." 

Becky broke down again, sobbing pitifully. Everyone who had heard her
was motionless and speechless.

"How is my father?" Mr. Williams intervened.

"Touch and go," the doctor replied.  "I will keep you informed."

The doctor turned to leave, stopped and turned back, staring at Becky
again. Mr. Williams went to his side.

"If he was having sex with her, I am surprised your father has lived
this long.  She looks like she is woman enough to kill any man."

My boss replied, "I feel that way every time I fuck her."

The doctor's mouth flew open as he stared at my boss. He shivered.  I
could see his pants were tented.  He was mumbling to himself as he
disappeared back into CCU.

Over the next thirty minutes, other people arrived. Trudy came.  It
took her some time to find a baby sitter.  Christina Williams. Mr.
Williams wife, and Mrs. Simpson, Mr. Williams sister, arrived
together.  Christina was a tall, elegant, classy looking women.  She
was very beautiful and well shaped.  I could not help wondering how
she was in bed. If Christina knew about Becky or Trudy, it did not
show.  She evidenced no hostility at all to my wife and my girlfriend,
both of whom were her husband's sluts.

Then, the young doctor came out.  He looked tired and drawn.  Walking
directly to Becky, he said, "Mrs. Jones, Mr. Williams is asking for
you." He led Becky into the CCU. The rest of us followed. 

Horse lay dying, tubes and electrical contacts attached to every part
of his body.  His eyes were closed. Mr. Williams pushed through the
crowd to stand by his father's head. His sister was right with him.
Becky stood where Horse could see her.

Horse's eyes fluttered and he looked at us. Mr. Williams leaned his
ear to his father's mouth as the old man tried to speak. As Mr.
Williams turned to speak to Becky, he stood back and moved his sister
out of the way. 

"Take off your blouse, Becky.  He wants to see your tits."

Becky's tears started flowing again as she quickly undid the two
buttons of her blouse which were attached. She ripped off the blouse
and dropped it to the floor.  A male nurse groaned. A female nurse
whimpered.

Becky took Horse's hand and held it to her milk filled breast, both
her hands over his.

"Please don't die.  I love you.  I love you, Horse.  Don't leave me,"
she sobbed.

Horse's hand squeezed and milk shot everywhere, rich and thick and
full of life. The milk was still flowing down his fist clenched on her
breast when the heart monitor alarm sounded.

Doctors and nurses rushed to assist Horse. Becky fell to the floor and
shrieked.

"Help me, Bobby.  My baby is coming," she screamed. 

One spirit departs.  Another spirit arrives.

Fortunately, we were in a hospital.  The baby was a month premature
and came very quickly.  The CCU room doctors decided to deliver there.
Horse, dead now, was on the other side of a room separator. I was by
Becky's side as the baby entered this world.  The doctor and nurses
assisting looked shocked and fearful, as if expecting a confrontation.
They held the baby up so I could see.

I held my wife's hand as I looked down at her face.  We had already
decided on the children's names depending on who the father was. 

"A very healthy, hearty Leroy Percival Jones has entered the world," I
said.

"Leroy Percival?  Oh, Bobby.  I got my black baby.  I got my rainbow."

Then, her eyes closed.  The doctor gave her medication and she rested.

I should say the father's name was Leroy Percival Jones. We did not
think we should use his last name, as we had with the other fathers,
because that would make our baby Leroy Percival Jones Jones.  One
Jones was enough for any baby.

The time following was very difficult for my Becky.  She was
physically exhausted.  She was severely depressed. As happy as she was
with her children and with Trudy and me, the loss of Horse weighed
heavily on her.  I think a large part of it was the way he died,
having sex with her.  The doctor had not given her antidepression
medication because she was nursing.  She sat and looked out the window
most of the day.  She refused sex and affection. She ate only because
Trudy and I insisted it was necessary to have healthy milk for the
babies.

Trudy was a Godsend, caring for Becky and the four babies with
tenderness and joy.  She was very much a part of our family and Becky
and I both loved her as she loved us.

Becky loved Horse. She loved him deeply and honestly.  This did not
bother me.  I knew she loved me, too.  Becky was a slut, but she had a
big heart.  It was a heart big enough to love more than one man. Or,
more than two or three.

I hired a maid to help at the house.  Trudy was busy with four
children under the age of four and Becky did little except nurse and
rest. 

A month after that day Roy, as we called our son, was born, Mr. and
Mrs. Williams and Horse Williams' lawyer came to the house.  They had
asked us to join them downtown but, Becky was not up to it.
Graciously, they agreed to come to our house where we all sat in the
living room.

"Mrs. Jones," the lawyer said in measured and well-modulated tones.
"Mr. Charles Williams thought highly of you. He put you in his will."

"I don't want to be in his will," she answered in a monotone as she
stared blankly out the window.  "I want to be in his bed with him
between my legs.  I want to hear his breathing as he lays on me.  I
want his hands on me and his cock in me.  That is what I want."

The lawyer sputtered and his face turned red from Becky's statement. I
saw a tear in Mr. Williams eye. 

The lawyer composed himself and continued, "he left you quite a sum of
money."

Becky stared at him, no emotion on her face, her eyes dead. 

"Is this about money? Money? I don't want to hear it."  

Laboriously, Becky stood.  She kissed me softly on the lips. As she
walked toward the door, she stopped by Mr. Williams' chair.  She
kissed him softly on the lips, as she had kissed me, and exited the
room.  The lawyer and I were watching Christine Williams.  She showed
no emotion from Becky kissing her husband.  Neither of the Williams
seemed a bit concerned about Horse leaving part of his wealth to
Becky's darling children.  My children, too. The lawyer turned to me.

"Actually, Mr. Jones, Mr. Williams left the money in trust for your
wife.  You are the trustee so you will manage it and distribute the
income for her needs.  I understand she bore Mr. Williams a child."

"Yes," I replied. "He fathered Colt, our son.  Colt is the first of
our four children."

"Mr. Williams fathered only the one boy?" the lawyer asked.

"Yes.  All four of them have different fathers," I said.  He looked
aghast.

"Amazing.  To continue, Mr. Williams is, I mean, was, an unusual man.
The trust document provides after your death and that of Mrs. Jones,
the trust proceeds will be distributed to all your children equally,
no matter who the father."

I had to smile.  Horse loved Becky as she loved him.  He knew what was
in her heart, her love for all her children.  He let it guide his
making of his will. I did not reply to the lawyer who glared at me
impatiently.  

"This is a lot of money. Mr. Jones, we are talking about seven million
dollars in blue-chip stocks and bonds," he said.

That was more money than Becky or I ever imagined. I knew she would
gladly give it all up to have Horse back.  Becky was that way.  Sweet,
loving.  She was as loving as she was slutty, and, that is saying a
lot.

When the business was over, the lawyer left but, Mr. and Mrs. Williams
stayed.  It was she who broke the silence.

"Mr. Jones, can I speak with Becky, and with Trudy?"

"Certainly," I replied, wondering if an explosion of cosmic
proportions was imminent. However, she seemed very calm and
controlled.

They were in the nursery.  Becky was nursing Roy.  Trudy was feeding
Jade pablum since they were starting to wean her.  Maria was sound
asleep in her crib. She was still nursing and I wondered if she had
been fed already.  We had passed Colt in the living room where he was
engrossed in a children's show on TV.

As always when she nursed, Becky was naked except for the diaper used
as a wiping cloth which was across her shoulder. Becky and Trudy
looked up at Mrs. Williams. For a second, they both look frightened
and gave Mr. Williams and me a questioning look. Since Mr. Williams
appeared unconcerned, so was I.  He had been right about a lot of
things so far.  I suspected he knew his wife.

"May I sit down?" Mrs. Williams asked.  Becky nodded. 

Gracefully, she sat. As we all waited for her to speak, I saw the
loving and gentle expression on her face as she looked at Becky. 

"I know all about you, Becky. I know about you being my husband's
slut.  I know about the club and the bet and the babies.  I know about
you, too, Trudy."

She slowly turned to look at her husband.

"And, I know about the blonde bimbo in accounting, Arthur."

Mr. Williams blushed and shifted from foot to foot nervously.

"I said nothing for two reasons.  My husband is a stud, which is the
names males gave themselves when they call women sluts for the
identical behavior. Like sluts, studs need plenty of sex and they need
variety. I am happy my husband is sexually active.  I know he keeps me
satisfied."

Mrs. Williams looked away, her eyes sad, seeing some sight in her
mind. 

"More than that, we lost a child."

Becky sobbed audibly.  Trudy whispered "I'm sorry."

"He died three years before Arthur met you, Becky.  I was hoping you
could bear him another son.  I was very disappointed he has not
fathered any of your four."

Becky looked up at Arthur Williams, my boss.  She had emotion in her
face for the first time in a long time.  That emotion was sweetness
and caring and, probably, love. 

"Why didn't you tell me?  You could have fathered them all," she said
softly.

He shifted feet again and mumbled as his face turned crimson. He did
not respond before Christine continued.

"Will you please have another and let Arthur father it?"

Becky was visibly pained. Roy whimpered at her breast as she shifted
position.

"I'm so sorry.  I truly am.  But, I have had enough," she said sadly.

"I...." Trudy said. She was shaking. A tear rolled down her cheek.

"Oh, sweet Trudy," Becky said.  "I have been so selfish in not
thinking of you.  You must want a baby of your own and you have never
said a word. Why don't you have Mr. Williams' child?"

"I would like that very much," Trudy whispered.  She looked at me,
seeking my approval and permission.  "Do you mind?"

"Trudy, I love the idea," I replied.

"I like the idea, too.  Can we come visit, come see you delightful
women and your wonderful children?" Christine asked. 

"Any time, Christine. Any time," Becky replied.

It had not occurred to me that Trudy wanted to have a child.  I kicked
myself for not thinking of it.  All women want children.  And, if
Trudy planned to spend her life with us, I was not going to give her a
child because I was sterile.  That is what started Becky and me down
this path.

Five months later, I was sick with worry about Becky.  I had hoped
Trudy's pregnancy and Christine Williams visiting would have helped
pull her out of her blue funk. But, it did not.

Trudy was happy, bubbling, floating, her belly extended with Mr.
Williams child.  It was a boy child according to the sonagrams.  We
had already decided on a name: Robert Arthur Jones.

But, Becky was still depressed.  She only picked at her food.  She
refused to laugh, or dance, or party, or even go to the mall shopping.
All she did was nurse, care for her children and look out the window.
She slept in the nursery with the children. She refused medication
since she was nursing.  

She had not had sex since that time with Horse, the time when he had
his heart attack, which was now six months ago. When you think about
it, for a woman who loved sex as much as Becky to go six months
without it indicated something was terribly wrong.

I love my wife, my slut wife.  All I wanted when she first became my
boss' slut was for her to have children and be happy. She had four
children: two boys, two girls; four ethnic groups; but, all healthy
and happy and wonderful. 

All I wanted now was for her to be happy again. I wanted my wild,
giggly, happy, hot, sexy, slutty Becky back.

It was my idea, not Mr. Williams or anyone elses.  I knew my Becky
better than anyone.  I knew what I had to do.  I talked to my boss and
he agreed. We got it all set up for a Friday evening.

Becky was sitting in her rocker in the nursery when I entered.
Listlessly, she followed me into the bedroom. 

"I love you, Becky," I said, holding her.

"I love you, too," she replied, her voice emotionless.   

I slipped her arms behind her and handcuffed them together before she
realized what was happening. 

"Bobby! No! Let me go!" she barked. I shoved a gag in her mouth
eliminating further conversation from her. Mr. Williams came in just
as Becky kicked me trying to get away. He held her as I tied her legs
together. We carried her to the car kicking and twisting. 

At Mr. Williams' club, the other fathers were gathered: Basil Li, Jose
Martinez and Lee Jones.  Becky fought us every inch of the way as we
carried her into the club house and put her on the big bed in the
bedroom where she had fucked all the club members at one time or
another. She fought as we tied her wrists to the headboard. She kicked
as we slipped a rope around each ankle and bound it to her thigh,
locking her legs in frog fashion. 

"Let me go!" she screamed as I ungagged her.

I did something I had never done to my Becky.  I slapped her.
Startled, she stared at me.

"Becky, you are a slut, a world class, big titted, hard fucking, baby
dropping slut.  Sluts needs to be fucked.  We are going to fuck you
long and hard and constantly until you realize that is what makes you
happy."

"No, Bobby. Please! No!  Don't you understand? Someone will die! Don't
do this!"

Mr. Williams turned her head to look at him.

"Becky, every man dreams of dying while fucking a woman like you, of
dying while his chest crushes your tits and his cock fills your pussy.
We all want to die while fucking a beautiful, slutty woman who loves
us.  It is the final male fantasy. You gave him have that fantasy,
Becky.  He died a very happy and satisfied man."

"Really?  You really think so?" 

"Yes. We think so," Mr. Martinez said.

"Most definitely," Mr. Li replied.

As I crawled between her legs, her lower lip quivered and a tear
rolled down her cheek.

"Don't die on me, Bobby," she whispered.

We went twice each, ten long and hard fuckings. I know she did not
orgasm with me the first time.  I do not think she orgasmed until
Basil took his second turn, which was her eighth fucking of the
evening.  By then, she was moaning and twisting and covered in sweat.
Then, we untied her and left her on the bed. She was either
unconscious or asleep.

A hour later, all the other club members had assembled.  They were
visiting or playing cards or shooting pool, waiting to see what
happened with Becky.  They all cared about their club slut.

The bedroom door opened.  Shyly, slowly, Becky, naked and with dried
cum on her legs, came to me, folding her arms around me.  Finally, she
looked up at me.

"You do know what is best for your wife, for your slut, don't you?"

"Yes."

"Oh, my darling Bobby, you make me feel so loved."  She kissed me
softly.  "Can I have one more child, Bobby?"

"Of course. If you want to."

"I do.  Lets go potluck."

"All right," I laughed.  I knew exactly what she meant.

She looked at all the men standing around watching her.  She knew they
were her friends, her lovers, the fathers of her children.  She
squeezed my hand before walking toward the poker table.  A man
extended his hand to help her stand on the table top. She looked at
them all, a smile on her face.

"I want one more baby," she said.  "I am unprotected.  Let's go
potluck and see who the winner is.  Everybody game?"

A roar of approval came from them.  She teared up again, bathing her
face and those massive tits with her tears.

"I love all of you," she said.

"I love you" came floating back to her from them.

She gave a wide, happy, super slutty, grin.

"Or, maybe I just love your cocks.  Pull those cocks out, lovers.
Becky the slut is back and she is horny as hell!"

The End

Please!  Give me your comments.

E-mail address: ezriter@hotmail.com







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