Mitch half listened with irritation. If that was the bill he was thinking of, he was only a week late. Sort of impatient, aren’t they? ‘Tuesday, 1...:19 A.M.,’ intoned the electronic voice that inserted itself at the end of each message. ‘Hey, baby. It’s Wendy.’ Huh? Mitch snapped to attention. The voice now coming out of his machine was somewhat low, breathy, and definitely female. Mitch’s mind momentarily raced trying to think of anyone he knew named Wendy who might call him and refer to him as. Okay, I might have been able to argue that it wasn't my cock, since cocks can be pretty difficult to tell apart, but it was clearly Aunt Delia's face. To squash any chance of protestations about identity however, Claire then brought up another photo. The quality wasn't brilliant because it relied on the reflection from the mirror on Aunt Delia's dresser, but that was unmistakably my face, and my tongue conjoined with Aunt Delia's pussy."Busted!" exclaimed Claire gleefully, and at that point I. More

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