The private office showedevidence of not being painted since World War II; thepale green paint was peeling in layers, like dead fleshfrom a bad sunbur..., and there were broken sections ofit here and there on the faded, sun-bleached carpet.Marty Bondman’s desk was old and battered, but withouta trace of soul; and a large, upholstered wooden swivelchair stood behind it, where Bondman lowered his bulky,fleshy frame. “Now, let’s take a look at yourqualifications,” he said,. It was gentle soft but obviously desperate especially since not only did she soak hers but my undergarments as well. I smile. “You didn’t want me to go to that deal did you?”“No..”“And why would that be”“I needed you for a chore”“And what would that be”She turns to look at me in the eyes. I stare into them seeing pure lust. “Filling me up, Making me yours, and maybe you could even spank me….” she says the last part longingly. I once again smirk. Following my smirk is a loud smack against her. More

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