Drink then, and do not meddle with what we are discussing, for that requires all one's wit and cool judgment." I--drunk!" said Caderousse; "well that'... a good one! I could drink four more such bottles; they are no bigger than cologne flasks. Pere Pamphile, more wine!" and Caderousse rattled his glass upon the table."You were saying, sir"--said Fernand, awaiting with great anxiety the end of this interrupted remark."What was I saying? I forget. This drunken Caderousse has made me lose the thread. Then she put her arms around him and kissed him soundly. “Not particularly,” she said after the kiss. “I think you’d make a wonderful father.”“You’d do that for me?” he asked, his eyes wide.“The idea doesn’t bother me nearly as much as it should.” She grinned.“What about Dad?” he asked.“If he was here, instead of there, it would be him knocking me up,” she said simply. “But he’s not here, where he should be.” She used women’s logic, which simply disregarded the fact that he was needed in his. He knew that she hated to take his cock in her mouth, hated the taste of him on her tongue, hated gagging when he pushed against the back of her mouth. And, when he finished, he insisted that she swallow what he pulsed into her. She hated that the most of all. Her distaste for every aspect of the act made the experience all the more enjoyable for him. It was not because he wanted her to be miserable for misery’s sake, but because her willingness to endure so much for the sake of his pleasure. Shortly before Bill was scheduled to get off work from the hotel restaurant, I hugged Stacy and told her that I was going next door to take a shower. I made up some lame excuse that I liked the shower next door better than this one. She sort of knowingly agreed and walked me to the door again.I could tell she felt uncomfortable about what she was putting me through. Stacy knew as well as anyone that this was wrong of her. She wasn't a bad person. She was just getting fucked so good, she.