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I will receive punishment if she deems I deserve it. I don’t welcome it, but the slaps distract me from the sucking hole in my chest. She stares at me glassy eyed while I say, ‘I just thought that fuck head should know how I want you.’ ‘Take me to my car.’ She says her voice breaking. She opens the door and steps over the threshold. I am defeated. The fact that I made my move is little consolation. I have fallen, it’s the same result. I watch her march out of my kitchen in my favorite clothes. It’s hard to breathe. I robotically follow. She gets in the passenger side and I get behind the wheel. Everything is wrong. But I know all the moves without thinking. I start the car and back out of the driveway, I’m an excellent driver. Yes excellent, even with an aching stone for a heart. It weighs so much and it’s difficult to carry. I drive. I don’t yell or pound the dashboard. I don’t grasp and shake her explaining how wrong she is about every single aspect of her situation. I drive. I. “but… but I thought that you... that you…”“Enjoy it?” she hesitated and smiled. “YOU, my dear” she said coyly, “enjoy it too, don’t you?”“MmmmHmmm” was all that I could get out as I squirmed below her hips, my cock still throbbing and up inside of her squishy cunt.“Well then,” she paused and licked my ear some more, “next Wednesday night…” she whispered softly, “would you be okay… if I brought my work home with me?”“HERE?” I shot back, in a very surprised response, “at the HOUSE?”“Yes, Baby” she replied, in a very sexy, breathy tone, now grinding harder on my cock, “RIGHT HERE… maybe even this very spot!”The image of my wife and her lover fucking in our home - like the first time that I spied on them…. or even here, in our bedroom? The thoughts of what this meant and where it might be going filled my mind. My eyes involuntarily screwed tightly closed as intense, primal lust took over. I growled out like an a****l and shot what I could only imagine to be a quart of hot cum up into my.
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Peter was amazed at the number of tour buses in the parking lot. Large groups of pilgrims from all over the world, speaking in languages that he couldn’t identify, were entering a facility that resembled a small amphitheater, with rows of concrete seating separated into sections by aluminum railings. Many of the groups were wading into the Jordan to renew their baptismal vows. Peter chose to kneel down and, sticking his hand into the water, blessed himself. He turned, walked back up the stairs and scanned the spectacle below. ‘It’s good to see that Christianity is alive and well and thriving in these troubled times.’Peter met David at the entrance of the building. “So Peter, what do you think of the Jordan River?”Getting the hint from David’s voice he laughed, “I guess Pete Seeger never visited the Jordan River,” he said referring to the lyrics of his version of the old African American spiritual song, made popular by the Highwaymen in the early sixties.‘The river is deep and the.

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