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
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except may be posted as part of a  review or posted to free-access, non-commercial 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'd fuck between two and six of the club members
each day.  Usually, Trudy had dinner with us.  After dinner, the three of us visited and had sex. 
After Trudy went home, Becky and I cuddled in bed, falling asleep in each other's arms.  

I never imagined my sex life would be this good.  I couldn't even believe that Becky was so hot
because before she became my boss' slut, our sex life was mediocre.  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'm 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 didn't 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 wasn't a tease.  She was so sexual and slutty that every man who saw her wanted her. 
That 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'm 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've 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're 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's so slutty.  We'll 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's perfect. Colt.  Little Colt, sired by Horse. Darling, little, baby, Colt."  

She lovingly stroked the man-child heartily nursing as her massive teat, 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's hung like his father, we'll have to call him Stallion when he's 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's why he was called Horse.
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's 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'll introduce them all, boys and
girls. Bobby, none of them could have a better teacher than I am.  I mean, I'm a teacher and a
slut. Who better to teach sex ed?" 

I couldn't 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 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'd 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 couldn't 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'm 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," the doctor said. 

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'm sorry, Miss . . . " the doctor sputtered.  

"Mrs. Jones.  Becky Jones.  I'm 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'm coming.'  I though he was having an
orgasm. I didn't 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'll 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'm surprised your father has lived this long. She looks like she's
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 wondered how she was in bed. If Christina knew about Becky or Trudy, it
didn't  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's 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." 

Her eyes closed.  The doctor gave her medication and she rested.

I should say the father's name was Leroy Percival Jones. We didn't 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.  That didn't 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
wasn't 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's 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'll 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 smiled.  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 didn't 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's 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'm 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 didn't 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've been so selfish in not thinking of you.  You must want a
baby of your own and you've never said a word.   Why don't you have Mr. Williams' child?" 

"I'd 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 hadn't 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 wasn't  going to give
her a child because I was sterile.  That's 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; 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're a slut, a world class, big titted, hard fucking, baby dropping slut.  Sluts needs to
be fucked.  We're 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's the final male fantasy. You gave him 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 didn't orgasm with me the first time. 
I don't 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.  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'm 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's
horny as hell!" 

The End

Please!  Give me your comments.

E-mail address: ezriter@hotmail.com




