It was his 42nd birthday, and he was alone… again… still. The ceiling didn’t really speak to him, yet he could still hear his wife’s lilting v...ice: ‘Time to get up, Stan. You have to go to work.’ Caron. He still loved her. He still thought of her, every day, many times a day. The deep depression that he felt was his only protection from his memories of her. The car had swerved to avoid a young girl, who was running across the road to her mother without looking, and it had caught Caron a. Joan cried out again. She was not used to a cock reaching that deep, and Paul was huge! She felt absolutely filled in a delicious way she had once known but had long forgotten. She opened her eyes and looked into his. Paul began to move, slowly out, then back again. Joan’s mouth dropped open, forming an ‘O’ as she dealt with the intensity of feeling. “Paul,” she said, “fuck me hard. I want to feel that rod of yours pummel my pussy.” With that, Paul raised up on his toes and began to piston his. Friday night was out in the garage trying to get a game plan on where to start when my wife came out there. She had on her long coat and a pair of black boots, that's all I could see. Oh and gloves. She sat down in one of my chairs I keep out there for bench racing and all in all bull shitting when us guys hang out. We spoke from time to time as most of the time I had my back to her while straighting up my work bench. She asked if I was going to be doing this all weekend. I said well what else. “I think you’re beautiful,” I said.“Thank you,” she said with that slight playful smile she had when I first saw her walk into the bar. “You’re not so bad yourself.” She slowly started walking towards me.I stepped towards her and took her in my arms and we kissed, tenderly at first. It felt good just to hold her close and kiss her gently, warmly, but then our kissing became more passionate. My probing tongue opened her warm lips and our tongues swirled with more intensity.I moved my hands down.