"Thank you again, Miz Bessie," he said, before leaving her store."Thank you again, Miz Bessie," he said, before leaving her store. Once outside, he ripped open the envelope and found the simple message scrawled in Miz Bessie's spidery hand-writing. 'Sister not feeling well. Stop. Don't worry. Stop. Not serious. Stop. Will let you know. Stop. Dad.' It was such an innocuous looking message, but it had such sinister meanings. Irish groaned and stretched as she woke up, every muscle in her body protesting. Suddenly, she sat up, looking around. How had she gotten back to her room? The last thing she remembered was coming over and over again with Jonah's huge cock stuffed in her pussy and Jeremiah Crane whipping her ass. She shifted her buttocks slightly and bit her lip again the discomfort she felt. Obviously, she remembered that part of the evening correctly. A hand crept down between her naked thighs, gingerly touching her pussy. Yes, she was sore down there, inside and out. As she stuck the tip of her finger inside her, a drop of moisture coated it. She withdrew her finger, looking at the pearly liquid. That wasn't hers. So it must be Jonah's. God, he must have shot an incredible load for some of it to still be there. A knock on the door startled her. She quickly stuck her finger in her mouth and sucked off the juice. Then she held the linen sheet up against her chest. "Come in!" Ginger poked her head in. "Oh, good, you're awake. Some of us are going over to the Golden Slipper to play some cards. Want to join us?" "Sure," Irish replied. "Give me a couple of minutes to get dressed." Ginger nodded and withdrew. Irish could hear her calling to the other girls that they had to wait for her to dress. |