Animal Orgy
By Moe Lester It was early one Sunday evening that Evan received the anonymous telephone call. It was a woman’s voice, there was no doubt about that. An elderly woman–sixtyish, Evan figured. Dry, rather prissy. Old-maidish, but authoritative at the same time. “You don’t have to know my name, Dr. Morrison,” the woman said crisply. “My identity is not important. What is important is the ugly, vicious act of perversion that your wife–” Evan’s temper flared like an ignited powder
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