?On your knees? I pointed to the ground and she obeyed.What a view. Behind Samantha there was a full wall mirror, in it I saw her mother’s face as...she looked at her little girl. Samantha’s face was plastered with dried piss and remnants of her mother’s shit from earlier, splashing around at the base of her funnel was about a liter of her mother’s enema and floating chunks of shit. Everything she wasn’t forced to eat. She was crying and looking to her mother for some sort of moral support. . "This is my husband Daniel," she introduced in a soft, sad voice."Uh hi," I said vaguely, without any interest. After all, how often does a guy discuss fucking another man's wife with the man himself? Not too often I'll bet. I stood there, silent, not knowing what to say or do."Please sit down," she begged. "There will be no artifice, what you called 'fucking with your head' at all, just the facts." She swallowed and gestured toward a chair.I sat. "Okay, tell me what you want and leave. Get. More

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