A hand grabbed it and stopped it in its arc. I backed away enough to see what was happening. A guy who was big enough that he didn't need the weapon �...� he had at least three inches over my 6-foot-2 – was poised to put my lights out permanently, but for the dark-haired guy who had stepped between us. He was about my height, maybe an inch shorter. He had the bruises to show he'd been in some serious disagreement in the not too distant past. He wasn't muscle-bound, but he looked like he kept in. I relived that one a lot. That would be the sort of memory I'd jack off to, but Kennedy had me in use so much I needed to rest when she didn't call, so no jacking off.—One morning I was still half-asleep when I felt Kennedy pushing down on top of my head. That was a pretty standard way of saying she wanted me to go down on her, so I did. I could tell she was turned on, and I quickly became turned on myself. That’s good because slightly stale morning pussy is better when you’re turned on, then. More

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