“Holy fucking shit,” groaned Mr. Greyson.“I got to fuck your cunt,” snarled Mr. Mason. “I need your pussy on my dick right now, you little s...ut!”Precious broke the kiss and moaned, “Yes! I'll make your dick feel amazing, Mr. Mason!”“Good girl,” I moaned.Mr. Mason pulled my daughter towards the bed, leaving Mr. Reeve kneeling and licking his lips, clearly savoring the taste of my daughter's ass. I shuddered, watching as Mr. Mason stretched out on his back. My daughter undid his pants and fished. ”“So, I should tell Fat Phil there is nothing to worry about on his large, if not monster, wager on the number eight race at 5:20 at Aqueduct?”“Well, precision-wise, that is not precisely the message, word-for-word, that I would care to deliver to Fat Phil. Were I you. Or anyone else.”“So Boston Shorty, my attention, full bore, is now what you have. Itʼs not what I want you to have, itʼs not something -- my attention -- which I toss around to every Tommy Tilt which crosses my path, but it seems. More

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