She had seen an image of him fucking her as he had promised ever since he had spoken the words, and it was driving her closer and closer to cumming as...each second passed. She tried in vain to think of anything that would calm her. It was only one night she kept telling herself. One night of resistance, and then she would have won; but his words were ringing in her ears “To fuck, anytime I want.” She drew her legs back further and let her hands slide down over her buttocks. Each caress upon her. ‘I know Ned is all right. Just like Debbie knows that she would have to kill me before she did anything to him.’ Her husband looked down at his sweet, loving, beautiful wife with surprise, but he didn’t say anything. ‘No, I was worried about you. I was afraid that you would come back with a broken heart or a broken neck.’ ‘Well Debbie is an attractive, vivacious woman, but not nearly as special as the woman I married.’ ‘You got that right buster,’ she laughed. They sat together in silence for. She ran her hands up Emma’s arms and then down her waist to secure a grasp at the top of her hips. “You’ve heard of Delia Cook, I believe.” “Well, yes!” “She’s successfully broken taboos of acceptability that were once thought unbreakable. And she’s done so by being so very reasonable and so very sensible. Thanks to her, subjects which would have been forever neglected are now open to healthy, frank and open discussion. She and her fat motherly body are no strangers to television interviews on. Their eyes met, he smiled easily, not forced, not leering nor the typical fake smile so common in these parts. Up close, the eyes were positively captivating, she knew those eyes, she had dreamed of a man with those eyes. He moved to the bar and took the seat directly in front of her. The deep, pacific ocean blue eyes never left hers. He spoke, extending his hand as he did so. ‘You look beat. I’m Jeff. I apologize for interrupting what is probably the first break you’ve had all night but could.
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