By Victoria Looseleaf

August 16, 1977

To my way of thinking, his stomach is distended, but he's rich, a titled Jewish Austrian Englishman and he wants to publish my first novel.

Thrust away, in, out, pant, pant. I excuse myself to go to the bathroom and pop a percodan. He doesn't miss me because my girlfriend is also in the borrowed Bel Air bed, sucking away at his gristled cock. → Read more