?Dig in,? she said, then laid back as the man began devouring her cuntsteak. She quivered as he sliced off her clit. Then he started cutting small pie...es off of her womanhood, triggering yet another orgasm. It was even more incredible than the cooking process. As he finished her labia, he gestured with his fork to her left breast.?May I have a nipple?? he asked.?Go ahead.? The man had paid for her cunt, but he still needed permission from her to eat any other parts of her body. Chelsea moaned. Nor what it looks like. And I wouldn’t find out this trip. We met Mr. Fleetwood in an undistinguished three-story office building in a mixed-use neighborhood in an area I later learned was called Adams Morgan. Northwest part of town.Morgan Fleetwood was as I’d remembered him in the Hotel Phillips in Kansas City. He’d blend in almost anywhere. My height, balding, horn-rimmed glasses.He smiled noncommittally and offered his hand to both of us.Mr. Fleetwood said, “Where are those three sheets?”“In. More

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