Desperately, Paul sorted them out in his mind. Patty had had his hand, so it was Pam who had had his c**k, and Patty who had had her finger up her twin's tail.
Therefore, it was Pam that was being accused of using him all up, and Patty that had the washrag.
"Well," Patty said, "at least the injured member deserves to be washed before we bury it."
"Bury it?" Paul croaked.
"In me," Patty reassured him as she bathed hi p***s with the wet, rough washcloth.
"Can't bury the poor thing when its dead," Pam teased, kneeling on the other side of Paul.
"I fully plan to bury it alive, sister, dear," Patty retorted. "Why don't you get the simulator from the bureau?"
"The torpedo?" Pam asked, easing off the bed. "The small one."
Paul's c**k was totally limp. The washrag brushed over it, but he h
