The day he left I stopped by his house at lunchtime and rang the doorbell. Olivia answered the door and I could see that she had planned on going out. Low cut blouse, short skirt, high heels and makeup just ever so perfect."Why Olivia, you are looking sexy as hell. Getting ready to go and meet Mark?"Her face paled when I said that and she stuttered when she said, "I have no idea what you are talking about." No? You don't know Mark? Mark Willard, husband of Martha, father of Cory and Kevin? But hey, I guess that I can understand that given that he has so many names to use. Let's see now" and I looked at the piece of paper in my hand. "On Tuesday you were registered at the Courtyard in Colorado Springs as Mr. and Mrs. Paul Baxter. Wednesday saw you at the Best Western as Mr. and Mrs. John Tyler. Thursday he signed you in at the Marriott as Mr. and Mrs. Robert Miller. I can see where you might be confused about the name." What do you want?" How about asking me in for a start. I don't. Electric currents jab at her. They make her skin ripple, her spine arch.There always is the hunger, the need to taste the white slimy cream. To swallow it and paint her face with it. To feel it spurt over her tits and belly. The scent of it, the taste.There is the craving need to quench the fire in the central void of her being. There are the gaping throats of her flesh. She wants them filled, stretched to the limit. She wants them drowned in boiling liquids, seep with juices, leak with come. Come, the magic word... cummmmmmm.She is always almost there... her weak hand claws to reach. To reach he edge, eternal edge, oh god get me there... there. Her nails scratch, cruel irons bite her flesh. There are the throbbing nipples, screaming clit and sobbing cunt lips. Painnnnn, sweet pain of flogging, piercing, burning. Push me over the edge, pleeeease now... pleeeeease, sweet pain... make your daughter come.She is a shivering mass of jelly, a panting creature of sobbing misery. She begs.
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