Darla had pushed the button to cash out. She told me that a really good slot machine player said never let the credits build up in the machine, always...make the machine pay. I thought my brain was doing a swan dive at this latest revelation. For the next hour we played the slots and talked. Darla had graduated from college a few years earlier and was now a teacher of junior high kids in a suburb of Chicago, while earning a masters degree at night. She had been to Las Vegas three or four times. He held me still as I squirmed and grunted, confused and over-stimulated by the semi-**** that was happening to me. I began to cry and moan as the bull wriggled me around on his hefty boner. It stirred my guts and raked my sweet-spot hard. After a few seconds, I settled down and let him take control of my body. My asshole gaped and clenched at his girth and my belly quivered in weak acceptance of the massive club which filled it. I whimpered in submissive delight when Roscoe lifted me, scooped. More

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