So Ginny sat on a bench facing the woman. Fed by a cry for human contact deep inside her, Ginny took half of the sandwich she had made and reached out...over the pathway that separated the two women. ‘I’ve found my eyes were bigger than my stomach. I can’t eat all of this sandwich I just made. Would you like to have half?’ The woman stopped humming and rocking and looked up at the proffered sandwich and then into Ginny’s eyes. If Ginny had expected to receive some spark of contact, she was. Whiffs of beer sweat, pungent foods and urine invaded her senses.She raised her head but kept hold of the fat dick that given her so much pleasure. Up and down she went, spitting for lubrication, coming off to milk pre-cum, then back to work.For perhaps the first time in her life, she thought, “I am a whore.”“BACK TO WORK!” The words bounced around the echo chamber of her psyche.There could be two types of women in the world: those that got off on being called names while fucking and those that. More

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