Ingrid was like Johnny, they were both weak-minded nymphomaniac sluts. Time passed, the odd text unexpectedly came from nowhere, never more than casua... banter not the filthy shit Johnny wanted, he'd forgotten her, dumped the whole idea, but the text messages only fuelled his need to fuck her and fuck her good he did when he wanked and wanked over the memories of that night, everything was perfect when he stroked his cock at varying speeds, she did it all so well, he emptied his balls so many. ‘I bet I know more about you than you think. Don’t say anything till I’m through and then tell me how many things I get wrong. OK?’ After he said okay, she began, ‘Listening to your voice when you’re standing, you’re about 5’10 or 5’11, not over six feet tall at most. You aren’t fat, you’re pretty trim, about 165 or 170 – your footsteps don’t sound heavy. You’ve played football or some other sport, you walk like an athlete. You don’t smoke or I’d smell it. You have a grade point average between. More

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