Seconds later, I was filling Betty's pussy with a great deal of cum. It was heaven. There is just nothing -- NOTHING -- like the experience of seeing Betty naked, and watching her have multiple orgasms while I'm ejaculating inside her pussy. We did it once more, and I thanked her and went home. For really the first time, I truly understood why sex was so sinful. And for the first time, I didn't feel guilt or shame. I felt good. Really good and proud of myself. It was Saturday afternoon, and I was walking up the stairs with Bill and Mark, all three of us grinning like clowns in anticipation of the sex we were going to have. We dropped our blue jeans. Out with the Playboys, and several other lesser quality "girlie" magazines. Onto the bed, the squeaking of the springs playing counterpoint to the flipping of pages. Hands discretely massaging erections inside our underwear. The occasional "Wow! Check her out!" And then the first "gangbang chick", what we called a picture sexy enough to. I stewed for a day or two, remembering that beat-up old attaché case of Leroy’s that held all the incoming cash. Bundles of untraceable bills. So there I was, climbing into Leroy’s crash pad, an old furniture warehouse. The ground floor was a garage for his many cars plus a mess room for the armed hired help covering the access, the middle floor high-ceiling rooms were plushly reappointed throughout, the top floor consisting of pokey attics full of rubbish. Hey, I like to explore. So I climbed that wall to the attic and let myself in through some window that a disgruntled recent ex-employee had intentionally left unlocked. Judging by the dust, the half-empty paint tins, wallpaper and solvents lying around, no-one ever tidied up around here. I securely tied up the long rope I had brought with me and doused it in paint thinners. I opened the paint tins, spreading paint and thinners over all the old furniture. I crept down the stairs in my socks. There was a guard: Big Tone himself, at.
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