‘I missed you so much, Desire…’ I tell her, unzipping my pants. ‘Did you miss me?’ She nods her head, and slides her hand into her shirt, he... other hand, under her skirt. ‘Want to play with me and my friend, Lana?’ Her question shocks me, but it’s to late to answer. The door behind her opens and a lovely, tall oriental woman walks in. Dressed in the same outfit, she smiles as she comes up behind my lovely Desire. She runs her hands down Desire’s front, opening up her shirt for me, revealing. No. I killed him.I know. I have no right to live on. But I do.I could annoy you with repentance and remorse, but I won't. Not because I don't honestly feel it. I do feel remorse, about ten tons of it and they all weigh on my heart.But there is no point, is there?My love is dead. George is gone. So is every dream I ever had. I carelessly and thoughtlessly threw them away. I betrayed and killed the one good thing I'd carried within me — George's love.What's left of me is just trash. Worthless. I slid long, hard strokes into her, watching her delicious ass ripple each time our bodies met. Sharp moans escaped her, muffled by her sofa cushions. "Oooh, fuck! Oooh, fuck!" She screamed into the cushions, her body moving as if overwhelmed with ecstasy. I continued to drill into her, feeling impossibly tight walls squeeze around my length as her body expressed the classic signs of an approaching orgasm. I couldn't hold on any longer. "Fuck . . ." I whispered. "Fuck, fuck,. Not that any of this is occupying my thought processes right now as I have so much more on my mind. Between nuzzling her neck and fondling these massive warm breasts, there is little room left for deductive reasoning. Whether simply a case of my ‘making hay while the sun shines’, or the lady is impelled by forces outside of her control, it just seems to me that her body language is urging me onto even greater daring. Not by the spoken word of course – we have not exchanged so much as a.
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