He offered me a glass of water; here in my own kitchen this calculating lump of a blackmailer was offering me water from my own tap, in my own cup! I ...ook the proffered cup and sipped at the water desperately trying to get my head round the whole situation, as he silently stood watching as I regained my senses, again he asked my name and in a whisper a voice I barely recognised as my own said “Christine.” “Do you want money?” I asked, to which he shook his head, shock registering in his eyes. Bear in mind this was very much in pre-internet days, when you had to find your wanking material when and where you could! You had to be imaginative at times.Reaching under a bush I grabbed a double page- it was porn! An old girly mag of the time- a Mayfair if I remember rightly. We quickly gathered up all the pages we could find, and went off the railway line into the bushes to examine and assemble our find as best we could.We soon had most of the magazine in some sort of order, divided it. But days turned to weeks and it seemed weeks were going to turn into months. We continued to have sex in the beginning. It was obvious she was doing everything in her power to not enjoy it. She would just lay there as she allowed me to use her pussy as a sperm receptacle. After a couple of those sessions and I gave up entirely.She was the dutiful wife and mother. Full meals were prepared three times a day. The house was kept germ-free, clean and tidy. She shuttled our son around to all his. I would steal glimpses of her massive tits when we sat for ice tea or lemonade. On several occasions, I would borrow a pair of her underwear or a bra from the clothes line and jerk off in the barn thinking of having sex with her. One hot day I had been mowing the lawn while Mrs. Smith was tending to her gardens. After working for several hours, she called and asked me to take a break for ice tea. While we were sitting on the back porch drinking the ice tea she took her glass and ran it across.