#174455 - what was her still silky if frayed rosebud at the agreed-upon end of tonight’s romp was, now trespassing well into the 2nd hour, fast becoming a tired crater, her anus beaten loosed and unmoored from it’s diamond-tight maidenhood of so many years, her beautiful if common enough behind a home for his dragon in which to behave or breathe flame, in which to delight or damage. They survived well, though: $300 dollars a night, cash money, for three hours Thursday, Friday, and Saturday nights – no questions asked, and the occasional complementary case of cheap beer that back-when would last them a month – performing at roadhouses where roughnecks cashed their checks and college kids went slumming with their allowances. He lowered her so she stood flat-footed again but still held her close.
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