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The connection was instantaneous, almost physical. Keira, in her jeans and pale green blouse, a black lacy camisole showing underneath, with pale red hair cascading free in soft waves, tore my breath away. My heart palpitated. My blood pressure skyrocketed. I turned away and hurried out.It didn't help.I was back at square one, in Hell. God she'd looked so pretty. Back home I drank until numb. It didn't work. In a moment of weakness, influenced by alcohol, I pulled out my cell phone and typed a message.'So sorry. I was wrong. I miss you so much. Please forgive me.'That message sat on the phone for half an hour waiting for me to push the send button. Visions of her filled my mind, so beautiful, such a special girl. With a deep breath, I steeled myself. Just do it, I admonished myself. My thumb touched the send button.KEIRA SAT WATCHING THE television with Mom and Dad, her sister and brother out. Her mind wasn't following the show. She was still shocked at the sight of Sebastian. He'd. I sighed and said, “No, Evan, never. I’ve never been with another man since the day we married. I’ve had a very good loving marriage for more than twelve years and, to be perfectly honest, we’ve always had great sex and shared many experiences to keep it that way. Variety is the spice of life but it doesn’t have to include other people, does it?” “Suppose not,” said Evan, his eyes scanning down over my face, chest and left thigh. “These shared experiences, they haven’t involved swinging, then?” “No, not exactly. Once, we went to a swinger’s club but we only watched. That was fun although, to be honest, it was a bit like being on a naturist beach. Not all body beautifuls, you know.” Evan grinned widely and nodded in agreement. “I much prefer the live shows in Amsterdam,” I continued. “Fitter people, more athletic and quite a turn on.” “Not like me, then,” said Evan, tapping at his waist band. “Nothing wrong with you, Evan,” I said. “You’re sturdy not fat. And look at your chest,.
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By the time his warm seed oozed into my receptive canal, the “size matters” debate had been superseded by the importance of technique. I thanked him as I rearranged my attire, and wandered over to Cheryl's prone form. Used beyond human limits; with bruise wounds sprinkled all over her body, a distended vulva oozing gallons of spent seed, and the biggest smile I've ever seen her carry, I turned her body over gingerly as the bar tender came over with several towels and helped me to wipe her down. We wrapped her in a clean tablecloth, and he helped me ease her into the car while discussing the problems with emergency medical intervention. The bar tender graciously offered me $100 for her care and to keep our mouths shut. Although she was almost too weak to speak, she kept reassuring me she would be alright during the drive home. Once I drove into the driveway, Chet rushed out to help her into bed, and by the time I finished my shower, I could hear them going at it again. The.

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