. mostly ... looked at the big block four cylinder Cummins diesel sitting in the engine bay looking perfect. Somebody had spent a bundle on that motor...The waitress and Bobby were cleaning tables and scrapping plates and the second shift diners were filling up empty seats and ordering breakfast.“What’s going on?” asked the sheriff, as he muscled folks out of the way. “Wow ... nice restore. Karen Post? This is yours?”I was sitting, arms wrapped over the steering wheel, grinning. I was watching. .. But that's not the point. What about you? If you were my conjugal you'd need to screw me at least twice a week... and preferably twice a day. I'm not joking. I need a man. A real man. Are you up to it, Mr Pendrill? Do you have what it takes to be my conjugal?"Howard looked at her in cold bewilderment. "I don't know. Lucy would hate it..." Mr Pendrill. Forget Lucy. Lucy would be accommodated. If we can manage to forge a working partnership, then the rest would be arranged. The department. She also knew her ass would hurt like hell for a week! We got up and showered then went to bed to rest. We woke up and had something to eat.Then we went upstairs to the bedroom, " Are you ready to be bred by your bull, Marina?" I asked. She shivers at how thick with lust my voice was. She slowly nodded her head. I smiled and pressed into her. Slowly at first, because she was so tight. I made small thrusts, feeding her an inch at a time. Waiting for her to stretch to accommodate me. She feels. It was money I couldn't explain well enough to deposit in my bank, so I was in a squandering frame of mind. To that end I'd been researching masseuses. You know. The ones you see advertising with 'theraputic' in quotes. Well maybe you don't know, but suffice to say there's plenty of such options around these parts.I finally settled on a woman named Lucy whose ad was in our local paper. It read: 'Lovely sensualist offering marvelous two hour escape'. I liked the two hour part especially, plus.