The Curse of the Were Whore Part I
The curse of the were-whore By Machiavelli Friday Joe-Bob Brigham watched the woman sauntering across the street, his tongue hanging out. She was a looker. High firm breasts (Too small though, they were only maybe a 36C) tight little ass, and legs that wouldn't quit. She was wearing a long skirt with a slit up the side to the thigh. A white blouse, with a bolero jacket and carried a small clutch purse. All Joe-Bob could think of was imagining those legs wrapped around him, her...