"I panicked. I tried to say "no," but I couldn't get my mouth to spit out the word. I looked to Shelly, who had a mischievous, almost evil look in her...eye. She then told him that yes, we would love to spend the evening with him.I nearly choked, but didn't know what to do or say as he took us both by the arms, paid for our meal, and walked us over to the bar across the street. I didn't know what Shelly was up to, but I finally decided to relax, and enjoy the moment. I mean, here I was, dressed. Well, my wife was not in bed with me because of me having sinus issues with the weather, so she slept on the couch. I got up walked to the living room and there she was, all cuddled up under the blanket on the couch still sleeping. So I just stood there with my rock hard cock sticking at attention. I ran my hand over her ass to wake her, she slowly rolled over to look at me. I laid down on to of her and started kissing her as I pulled the blanket off. She was only wearing a shirt no pants so. Bye Miss Peterson.?That was it, the end of the phone call. Andrea didn’t even get to ask another question. She placed her phone on the table in front of her, stunned. This whole thing was real. Was the man lying about his connection to the police or was he serious? Who knows? It was impossible to tell. What was she going to do? There was really only one solution. Andrea picked up the phone.?Matt? I? I just called the number and ? he? or they? are serious.??Fuck? that’s really bad. Have you. It was a sweltering afternoon, and I was hurtling into the unknown, partially naked and taking in the scents and sounds of an English summer in the most peculiar manner, circa August 1992. ‘How old do you suppose she is?’ Mr Parslow pondered, unceremoniously dropping my arms as I lay in a half-dead star shape at his feet. ‘Eighteen or so, give or take a few months,’ Mrs Parslow replied, striding elegantly across the garden towards me, ‘Pretty little thing, isn’t she.’ ‘Quite.’ ‘How old are you.