He cracked one eye open slightly. Good, some subdued light. He remembered what bright light had been like on those hungover student mornings. Opening ...oth eyes, he looked at the ceiling. Grey, and not a very appealing grey. A couple of lights recessed into opposite corners. Not too bright. Good, if this was a hangover then he didn't want bright lights. It didn't feel like a hangover though, at least it didn't feel like his memories of hangovers past. Maybe hangovers felt different when you got. As Amaya cried out in pleasure as I ate out her honey pot with gusto, her fucking Papillon joined in the chorus with a series of whimpers and whelps. And every time that she would climax, the annoying animal would increase its volume and begin barking. As much as I wanted to continue with the cleaning operation of Amaya’s tampon socket, the incessant chants of her dog became intolerable. I sought to abruptly end the sex session by busting a nut as quickly as possible to avoid further anguish. More

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