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Her oscillating hips ground her panties hard against Ned’s zipper. The lap dancing pair were staring intently into the other’s eyes, apparently oblivious to their audience. Quick witted, the bouncer signaled to the control booth to hold off on the impending main stage act. This unexpected free show was good for business. The word of mouth rumors alone would generate double the club’s volume over the next few months. Farrah pulled Ned’s face into her chest. She hugged his neck, looking past him to where the bouncer stood sentry. Ned’s nose was filled by her flowery scent. He inched his face under the dress to her left tit. He kissed and then nipped her bare pert nipple. Farrah’s eyes shot wide at the tit nibble but then squinted into a sly smile that thrilled the watching bouncer and club onlookers. She rolled her shoulders, rubbing her hidden boob harder against Ned’s shrouded face. Her hips renewed the sawing action against his sheltered erection. The men had recovered their wits. ..Sir...", His response to her begging made her completely disappointed in herself. "Go ahead slut, you don't listen to anything I tell you anyway!". She was destroyed inside, she wanted to make Him happy and please Him. She was a failure, but the worst was yet to come...He told her to get up and open her mouth. She did as she was told even though she was heartbroken. While playing with His cock, He degraded her even more, "I don't know what the fuck is wrong with you pig slut but you can't even fuck me right, so I guess I have to do it myself!". She was ruined. It wasn't until He spurted His hot cumall over her face that she started to feel the tiniest speck of comfort.He informed her what tomorrow would be like. "Tomorrow, you will be at my door at 7am, not before, not after. You will wait until I open the door to signal I am ready. When you step inside, you will suck my cock and then I will fuck you from behind. You will NOT speak. If you do not do as you are told, I will never.
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I sensed the urgency in his voice. There was something he was desperate to tell me, and he knew he had very little time to say it. I still had no idea what the old man meant, but the significance of the initials had not escaped me, a very Uncle Albert-like joke. ‘Yes, Uncle, but what does it mean?’ And in a low faint voice, gasping for air, but marshalling his thoughts in a way that showed that within his shattered body his mind was still intact, he told me. He explained that he had been working secretly for nearly forty years on a new product for which he had devised the working title F.U.C.K.. No one else knew anything about it, not even the name. The company had a nebulous idea that he was trying to come up with something to enhance sexual potency, a kind of super-Viagra, but they had no real expectation that anything would come of it. Uncle Albert had been doing the most crucial work secretly at home, working every weekend and far into the night using rare and expensive.

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