Yes, that was Pete, store everything away. Don’t mention it.So it came as no surprise that he didn’t actually ask what kind of surprise was in the...offing. Perhaps he was afraid to. We had a couple of drinks and talked about football and snooker and moaned about our jobs, and I think Pete would have been happy with that. He certainly didn’t show any signs of being inquisitive or expectant.When the buzzer sounded, Pete didn’t show any emotion. He didn’t ask if I was expecting someone, or who it. The Restaurant and the Chance Meeting: Yes, my wife Jayne is a spirited 35 y/o mother of two. Perhaps it's her tight curly reddish hair that fuels some of her intensity, but I figure it was just as much the need to be in charge that she had that caused her spirited emotions. With an above average looking body of 36c-30-35, freckled face and stunning green eyes, Jayne quite often drew the attention of the odd male stare. It wasn't till that fateful night that we were in the favorite local eatery. She turns her lovely head towards the partition of glass, looking directly into me, and into my person, my soul, as her small mouth opens.“It is done.” She says over and over. Each time gaining a more desperate intensity. He keeps pumping her laboring vagina with the prodigious organ. Her screams are deafening. She reaches as though she is trying to give me something. Our fingertips meet at the surface of the window cold glass. I can feel her every thought.“Oh my God, oh my god- “ I grasped the. He pulled again, this time digging hard. Welts began to rise on my burned skin. I writhed under the torturous offense. I needed more. I wanted him to make me cry, to scar me. “Bite my nipples, Bobby,”I begged, “Bite me.”He bent down with no hesitation. I felt his teeth clamping down on my bosom. “Harder,” I whispered to him, “Bite me, Bobby, bite harder.”He responded, biting down and pulling them up with his teeth, his fingernails still digging over my skin. I was so wet. My eyes were on.