“I thought you might be a cokehead, though.”I looked a question at him.“You’ve got the look, you know?”“What look?”“Fancy suit, good l...oks, slick moves. You know the type.”I knew the type, all right. His name was Rod Fortner.“I’m glad you’re cool, though,” Mitch said. “One of us.”I nodded, and we washed our hands together. Mitch made a face as he wiped stray white powder from the countertop. He dusted his hands and raised his voice. “Fucking cokeheads!” But the guy was already gone.I laughed. Leaving the woman at her task, the Mistress stalked over to her husband/slave and stared him in the eye. “Are you enjoying yourself?” she asked. The tortured look of jealousy, love and worship told the Mistress all she wanted to know, as she returned to the bed. Taking her tube of cool lubricant, she squeezed a small amount onto her fingers, and, with a grin slipped her fingers between the black slaves arse cheeks, and pushed two fingers deep into his hot bum.Withdrawing her fingers, the. More

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