I am reminded of that night every day when I wake up and see the gifts he gave me.It was always ok. I knew he would be mine. Then the horrible day cam... when we all died, and the cycles began. The day I became the scribe, and knew I would probably live forever. But it was all ok. Until the cycle before last, when the change brought about in an effort to stop the deaths made me Patrick's wife.Finally, I had realized the dream, the promise. I was married to my true love. Oh, I knew intellectually. Mrs Morgan by contrast was lovely, a tanned gym bunny who seemed to spend her life pottering around their house in tracksuit bottoms and tight t-shirts, much to my delight. One day I popped over to borrow one of John’s videos. John and his dad were was out, but Mrs Morgan was her usual happy bouncy self. “Come in, I think it’s in the VCR already” she said and turned on the television. The screen burst into life and there, in glorious technicolour, was Mrs Morgan, slurping away on an absolute. Fran was nothing to throw rocks at, either, every bit as lovely as her daughter, and probably lonely. I wondered how her marriage was. ‘What kind of man…’ I thought out loud, ‘lets a beautiful woman like her alone for weeks at a time?’ I sat there, speculating what Fran would look like without the snug T-shirt and jeans. Her breasts were big, but were nicely shaped and looked firm. As she’d moved around the kitchen serving lunch I hadn’t seen the outline of a bra. I got up and began to pace.. "Well man I tell you what. I'll share with you. You two can have at it and I'll just watch," my husband replied. I looked at him shocked and a little excited about his comment. My husbands friend was not bad looking and by the feel of his cock, he had to be at least two inches longer and thicker than my husband. "Are you serious?" the buddy asked. "Hell yeah I'm serious. Go ahead." Me and my husband's friend looked at my husband and then at each other. The buddy pulled the cover away from my.