Rolling tobacco. How the fuck should I know? You do what you fucking can out here!” “And what does Sweetness do?” Sharon found herself wondering... the sensation of liquid tongue still a vivid memory between her legs. “She fucks,” snorted Joy. “Or more precisely she gets fucked. We’ve got a stall, and when I’m not out scavenging in the woods, she takes whoever wants to take her.” “So she’s a prostitute, then?” “I haven’t the smallest fucking idea what that is. Whatever you want to call it, it’s. Hot damn, I was going to get lucky this morning. Abruptly, the door opened, and a six-year-old girl blurted out, ‘Mommy, Miss Mittens is getting into her food bag.’ Both my wife and I moved in unison to cover ourselves. So much for morning sex. Welcome back to the world, Jack. ‘Honey, you know you’re supposed to knock before opening Mommy and Daddy’s door,’ my wife said. Mom voice, not giggly school girl. Sigh. Ah well. ‘But Miss Mittens isn’t su-Posed to be in her food bag!’ our daughter. More

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