No house, no wife, no kids, no side hustle, no backup plan.I sit up groggily in the shitty cot my step-dad set up for me in the garage, smirking as I ...ubbed the sleep from my eyes, thank god we live in Miami, eh?My few meagre belongings were tucked under a military-esque pop up cot, squared away in my patrol bag, a few more in the trunk of my 1969 Ford Mustang Boss 302. Even in the dim light it’s matte blue paint with white racing stripe finish gleams, spotless. My most prized possession.I. Mark had what she could only call a temper tantrum, berating her for not knowing that she was meant to swallow it all.He’d stormed off before she’d even had a chance to admit that the few drops she had tasted she actually liked. Her pussy, so far having only had one of his clumsy fingers within it was soaking; poised and ready to orgasm and yet she had made her way home utterly frustrated and, now, not even in the mood to satisfy her own libido. She looked up into her mother’s eyes gazing. More

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