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I loved the gentle way he had made love to me instead of fucking me hard.Not that I didn’t like him fucking me hard. I loved the hard fuck he gave me the second time after we rested—still coupled. The truth is I liked having him fuck me any way he wanted. I loved the feel of his cock inside me any way we did it, but that slow, gentle lovemaking, just the way I’d asked him to fuck me, was very special. I’d remember it as long as I lived. It reinforced the memory of my first time which was. ...............................................The damage at home was just as great though. Clare my wife of the hit theproverbial ceiling. It was at least 3 months before I was allowed back inthe same bed as her and over six months maybe more before any type ofsexual contact achieved.In the meantime I had not worked and Clare had suffered from anxiety anddepression which resulted in her deciding to give up her work before asshe put it "she got sacked like me." Times were hard and soon, as. .. ... and he was sinking just as surely as his boat. No matter how powerfully he moved his arms and legs back and forth the bottom loomed closer and the surface rose further away. He was sinking and he couldn't understand why. He was not caught in a whirlpool, there were no weights in his pocket. Hell, the only clothes he had on were a frayed pair of cutoff shorts. It was like the water had become unable to support his weight. He moved his arms and legs back and forth in powerful strokes and. "why thank you" she said and stepped closer to me. i was already semi hard from just being so close to her. damn it i wanted her...the sun had hidden behind some clouds, allowing a cool refreshing air to pass over us. she stuck her chest out to cool down and i got hotter just then. my loose little basketball shots had no chance of hiding my erection from her. she instantly looked down and saw it pointing up at her. saying nothing, she smiled at me and blushed again. "someone getting excited?" i.
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