I was aching for him, and I begged him to go lower. He listened to me, burying his face between my legs. His tongue danced around, touching me and sli...ing over places he knew I enjoyed. I grasped at the sheets underneath me and called out his name. I felt my first orgasm consume me until I became dizzy. Then it was his turn. He knew what was coming next, and he helped me sit up. He stood over me, his member gently nudging my lips. I kissed it fondly and began to swivel my tongue around it. I. In the old days, The Accountant had kept the books for the local version of the Pennsylvania Mob. His specialty had been turning enormous profits into small losses. His acumen would have been welcome in Hollywood, where many film company bookkeepers contended that the accounting for “American Graffiti” was still in the red. His steady, steely glint and absolute silence had earned him ever-greater responsibility until the sheer size of the duplicity would have made it impossible for even a. More

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