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Yes . . . she could get used to all of this! The only problem was that Jimmy knew exactly how powerful and rich he was. That translated into a certain arrogance, and tendency to use people. Jimmy had left in his wake a trail of girls that he had used for his own pleasure, and then through away. The only reason that Heather had lasted this long was that she was the best looking girl in the whole area. That gave her the in that she needed to get him to fall in love with her. That was why she was putting up with all of his shit! Unfortunately, Jimmy's idea of a romantic evening was playing with Heather's feet to get himself turned on, and then making her suck his dick. After he got his second wind, she either had to blow him again, or lay there while he fucked her tits. The only thing worse than getting a mouthful of cum, was getting it on your face in in your hair! That reminded Heather. She fixed herself a drink to get the taste of Jimmy's warm salty seed out. I pushed my finger back in her mother’s pussy hole which was considerably wetter than a few minutes ago, "What is this Alice?" I asked again."Your pussy mistress," she answered again."This isn't only my pussy you young whore, this pussy is whoever I say it is, this is a money making machine, and so is this," I said pushing a thumb in to her asshole.I lifted Alice's right leg and placed it on her mother's ass opening her lips a little and giving me a better angle to push more than a fingertip in. "This is also a money making machine do you understand?" I said."You mean I have to have sex with 26 women?" she asked."No whore, you're at the beginning of a long journey, but be under no illusions that if I want to loan you out I will do, but first we need to get you in to work, at work opportunities have a habit of arising don't they whore?" I said pushing Alice off me."Stand, you're done," I said pulling her close for a deep tongue kiss," enjoy your month off," I told her when we broke the.
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Ambrose never asked. He left it to Em to confess if she so desired. Sometimes she did, but mostly she didn’t. This was not because of conscience, far less was it from embarrassment. It was because Ambrose firmly believed that no one had proprietary rights over anyone else’s body. He had told her once, years ago when Em was making an early small confession, that he was a sexual Marxist. Proprietorship was outlawed. It was a concept she had come to accept without much delay. That night she didn’t tell him about Kawaii. One night, perhaps soon, she might. Instead they talked about what they would do when, in a couple of days, Ambrose’s work requirements would be over and they were going to Maui. Em knew vaguely where it was and that it was just another ridiculously short flight away. Ambrose in contrast had the history of the place at his command. He was particularly interested in the whaling history of Lahaina and they were staying just north of there and hiring a car. Em expected.

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