Chris had made him happy. She was the one who was actually responsible for the success of the project. She was also responsible for something else ......the lump in my pants. There's a button in a man somewhere, and when a woman like Chris suggests he have dinner with her, that button gets pushed. It's a little like one of those things that Jet pilots wear, where if they have to ditch in the ocean, they pull a cord and presto - something inflates.You can't help it, even when you feel bad about. But Mel hadn't forgotten, she just hadn't gotten around to asking himabout it yet. She didn't get around to it until they were both outgetting a quick hamburger for dinner since he had no food or even atable where they could sit together to eat it. "So," she finallystarted, "all that stuff was yours?"Chad blushed. He knew instantly what stuff she was talking about."Yeah," he answered shyly."Is that why you're getting divorced?"Once again, Chad was uncomfortable about the question, but all he. Nothing will make you happier than being my cow, right? Atta girl.”Cow, yes. Make me your cow. Put that collar on my neck. Moo.“But you can’t be my cow if you’re married. Cows don’t get married. Cows are animals, cows are owned. If you want to be my cow, you can’t be married, any more. You have to smash the rings.”I stared at the rings, the hammer. I’d stopped shivering. The ache in my gut felt like it belonged to someone else.“Be a good cow. Smash those rings.”I seized the hammer and raised it. ."CCCOOOMMMIIINNNGGG'!!!" Michele called out, thrashing her head from side to side in her absolute joy.The man let out a sadistic laugh. His body was under control. He knew he could fuck for a longtime.Both Bernard and Michele could tell that the woman was going to come many times during the fuck.Michele knew that there would be a point where she would lose count of her climaxes, and she wouldn't care.There would be a time when the number of orgasms would be insignificant.All she would be able.