But then, with the ingrained instinct of all humans to answer the doorbell or the telephone when it rings finally overcoming her apathy, she swung out...of bed and listlessly shrugged into her robe. She moved slowly into the living room, her body aching from bruises in a half-dozen places, her vagina and anal passage still sore and rubbed raw from the merciless drubbing of the lust- hardened penises of Steve Samuels and Ralph Taylor and that impossible German Shepherd.The soul-sick young wife. He looked at Martha. That ought to cool them down.She didn't quite glare at him, but stepped forward, holding her arms out like Val had. "I want to see my father." she said firmly.She had a fuller figure than Val had, being more than twice as old, but as Denny slid his hands all over her body she still felt remarkably good for an older woman. She was wearing a bra, and his fingers traced along the edges, feeling for anything tucked inside. She blushed too, but every time he looked at her face. More

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