Heck, we were both young, still in college, and well, sometime things happened. Susan had told me she was pregnant. Neither of us wanted an abortion, ...o we got married and Samantha popped out a few months later.I remembered talking to a few of my fraternity brothers; some had been all for it, they’d said marrying Susan wasn’t just the right thing to do, it was the right thing because we really loved each other. Sure, there were a few nay sayers; they said things like, “She was just another. He was moving so slowly, I asked him if he was ok. He replied, “Yes miss, everything is in working order, but me leg does play up a bit.” Searching in his jacket pocket he added, “Bloody hell! I have forgotten me marker pen.” He turned around and asked me to help him go back behind the desk for it. I said sure, and was about to offer him my hand. Before I could say anything he had put his hand around my waist, so I slowly walked behind the desk with his arm and hand firmly around my waist.. "The comment seemed to wrench Art's mind from the sketch/picture as he began to realize what had just happened. "I didn't ... I mean ... You drew what I saw, but I never even mentioned his mouth or ... his hair, and you didn't erase or change anything as you worked. But ... it's perfect. That's him ... How did you do that?" he very quietly asked, his voice almost breaking as he struggled to believe. "You ... saw him, didn't you? It wasn't just my description. It couldn't have been. You only. I know that she's never been really pleasured by fingering, as she told me that her boyfriend is under the impression that shoving three fingers in there and fucking her at the speed of light is what feels good, when it's actually just uncomfortable. I grin as I find her spot. Slowly, I begin stroking it, my fingers staying in the whole time. She begins moaning softly. With my other hand, I reach over to the stand next to the loveseat. Opening a drawer, I reveal all of the sex toys. I shift.
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