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No. 156018
there was even some fapficing in progress:
The great room was a mess. Lamps were shattered, curtains were torn down. Women lay passed out on floors and couch cushions in various states of undress. Warm, gentle sunlight streamed through the windows, its comfort almost a mockery of the carnage it illuminated.
Pavita stepped gingerly over the chaos, her manicured talons clicking softly on the tiled floor. "Aye aye aye," she clucked gently, picking a blanket up off the floor. She bent over-
*flub*
"Ach!" she hissed as her enormous breasts slipped out from her scanty black dress. She hastily grabbed the pillow she'd been bending over to get, then rose and stuffed her jiggling jugs back inside the lacy maid's uniform. It was too small. She'd been fitted for it when she was only three days in America, when she'd swum desperately ashore from the raft after weeks with little to drink and nothing to eat. Her tatas, while still titanic, had shrunk considerably during her time at sea. Now, with plenty of food and good rum on hand, they were swelling back to their previous magnitude, and her poor dress was splitting seams from the strain.
One of the hookers rolled over and belched vomit onto the floor. Pavita sighed. "Tan repugnante," she cooed, her pretty face creasing in revulsion.
"Tweet tweet!"
Pavita's eyes narrowed.
"Tweet tweet, pretty birdy. Over here."
Turning slowly around, Pavita saw Mister Martin lounging in a leather chair by the fireplace. His double-breasted jacket was unbuttoned and askew, white powder covered his blue shirt, and his eyes were bloodshot. But he was very much awake, and his eyes glinted.
"G... good morning, Misser Martin," said Pavita, putting on as fine a face as she could.
"Some fucking party last night, huh?" Mister Martin said lazily.
"I... I donno, Misser Martin, I asleep."
"You missed a hell of a time," said Mister Martin. "You are so goddamn beautiful. Such a beautiful bird."
Pavita swallowed her revulsion. "I clean now, Misser Martin," she said, hoping that would be the end of it. She turned around-
"Ah ah!" Pavita stiffened, her huge homungas jostling in her dress. She pivoted to see Mister Martin glaring lecherously at her. "Give us a taste, sweetie. It's early in the morning, baby needs his milk."
Pavita winced. "Misser Martin..."
"Do you want to go to INS, pretty birdy?"
Sighing, Pavita crossed the room to where Mister Martin reclined. Slowly, with much unease, she pulled down the front of her dress, exposing her hot, heaving bosom. Her nubby nipples stiffened in the cool breeze of the air conditioner.
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