Her husband normally told her when he was returning from an engagement early and the last text she got was over an hour ago saying good night. It coul...n’t possibly be him, right?Jennifer was naturally scantily clad in a silk nightgown that barely went down past her thighs. She would later curse herself for her attire that night, though it was her favorite nightgown that she owned to date.She moved toward the door and screamed with shock as a large man wearing a black ski mask appeared in front. I went down and waited for her till 10:30 no trace, I tried calling her cell but she disconnected and I thought there was something fishy. But then after 15 minutes she appeared and apologized for being late and said it was her husband who was with her and she had to drop him to work and stuff like that. Anyway she was the lady I had seen in the Pictures and I was happy about it. She was about 5’4” and fair Punjabi lady with very well developed breasts and a round firm ass. She told me later. In this Hell, I adapted. I’d learned to lie. I’d learned to fake social skills, pretend interest; I’d learned how to survive, not live. I worked out daily hoping the endorphins would assuage my soul. They didn’t - gone before I left the gym. I kept up appearances, maintained the same very short beard Addison had so liked.I’d discovered McEwan’s, a gourmet food shop in Don Mills and, like now, I browsed for premade meals, not that interested, not that hungry. Food was fuel, nothing more.Since. I had to fuck her hard, fast.And cum.I thrust forward. Her cherry popped beneath my thrusting cock. I rammed through her thin hymen in moments. It tore. And then her hot, tight pussy was around my cock. She moaned so loudly, her voice echoing off the bathroom tiles.“Ms. Marcie!” she squealed as my cock buried into her pussy’s depths. Her hot cunt took every inch of it. My crotch pressed into her bubbly ass. She wiggled, her cunt a furnace around my dick. So tight. “Oh, Ms. Marcie!”“Yes,” I.