" I rose and headed back to the door to get my bag. My limp was accentuated because I had sat so long on the floor in that scruntched up position. She...noticed."Madigan! You're hurt," she said. "And why is the sleeve of your shirt so fat?"I turned toward her. I smiled, if somewhat weakly, "Just a trophy from Afghanistan. But it's all right. I guess you'll be having big dick get things off the top shelf from now on," I said."Madigan, please. It isn't what you think; it really isn't. He just—I. I scribble my name down on a pad that he has in the car, my handwriting clear with the number laid out as evidence.We drive to the hotel room where he excuses himself briefly to make a phone call. Moments later we're up in the room and I am now dripping with lust and need. I'm told to get undressed and to lie on the bed, my slut legs spread and my whoreish blue eyes closed. I hear him tread off into the bathroom and there is a bit of noise, but nothing dis-concerning.Suddenly I feel his hands. More

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