He remembered waking up with a crushing pain in his chest, and then he remembered the blackness coming up in his mind. Now there was blackness again, ...o, not quite blackness, as his eyes adjusted to the darkness of the room. He could see the red numbers of a clock across the room showing 3:17. Then he realized that he was not wearing his glasses; how the hell was he seeing across the room?He threw the covers off and went to sit up. Again, something was not right. The pain that usually. He looked at it, turning it over in his hand."See, this part goes in, it even looks like a penis and this little side thing you press against your clit. Oh, man, that gets you off quick." And it vibrates, right?" Oh, more than that, look it turns, too," and she worked the controls to make it buzz and turn. "Boys can't do that," she gloated over her wonderful new toy.He laughed as he watched her sex toy do its thing."No, I wish I could but I can't do that. Mine doesn't turn like that." Wanna. She did and threw in her coat too , opened the door, got in and fastened the seat belt. As I slipped into gear I saw her mini-skirt hidden under her coat had ridden up to expose about a foot of thigh in silky black tights.As we drove off my eyes kept dropping to her thighs."Not getting enough then?"I didn't answer. Still at forty you could never get enough."Me neither. My husband disappeared six months ago with some teenager he'd been screwing and the only blokes I meet are where I work at the. “I don’t understand you,” I said, murmuring in my comfort.“What don’t you understand?” He asked, soothing my neck.“You treating me like a whore earlier, and yet a lady now.”“I treat you like a whore because you are one,” he said. “But why shouldn’t a whore be treated well when she’s not fucking.”“Why do you say that?” I asked. “Non solo una puttana. I’ve never been unfaithful to my husband before. I wasn’t even particularly wild when I was single. Sure, I had some affari d’amore before my.
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