She leaned forward, bracing her hands against the wall, shaking. He raked wetness from his mouth and her pussy back to her sphincter, lubricating it e...ough for him to push a finger into her. "Fuck!" she yelled loudly and came. Her pussy squirted into his mouth. It was messy, coating his face, and it was utterly delightful. Her fluids were thick, almost syrupy, and a bit salty. A little sweet. A tiny bit bitter. Completely unique. He drank as much as he could before she went limp, sliding her. No, it wasn’t because of that or any other immediately recognizable factor. Rather, he was a victim of his own uniqueness. Fate chose him to deal with those without conscience. What psychologists call the Sociopaths. It was his lot in life. Buffy gets vampires. Mongooses get snakes. And he gets Sociopaths. Yay. At last he lay on his bed, thinking about the events of the day. So many Sociopaths out there. First, there was his immediate supervisor at the security company where he worked, a. More

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