Life was good. A few grey hairs, so what? Nothing a hairdresser couldn't fix.Then came the warnings, hot and cold but brushed aside. Soon after my fif...y-third birthday, however, it didn’t happen. It wobbled, then it was a no show.My period missed, not one month but the next and by the third I knew, puberty in reverse, part of me gone, eggless, post-menopausal. I fretted and checked there were no sprouting lip hairs in the mirror and worried.Am I still a woman?Compounding my doubts, was hubby's. Warm,wet and soft. I hesitated as to enjoy the feeling. He grasped my hips and pulled toward him. My cock slid inside him completely as I looked back into his eyes,his mouth opened and he sighed heavily. I made love to him the best I knew how,like he did to me. Long,slow,deep thrusts all the while looking deep into each others eyes. It's was the most intimate connection imaginable. I was able to manage just a few minutes of self control before the feeling of starting to cum came over me. He. “Keep your voice down! I could get fired for mixing business with pleasure on a car deal!” She said, looking through the glass window of her office again, continuing in a low tone. “Jerry did say to do everything possible to give you the best deal. So yes, I want Dan to fuck me at the Hen House if that’s alright with you Karen.”“I guess he’s worth it to close the car deal,” Karen smiled.“What, you’re pimping me out for a 1,000 dollars plus four snow tires and rims?!” Dan exclaimed, beginning to. He had only the one tat -- the tiger -- but it was enough. If Haddy hung with the Goths, decorated the way she was, she’d fit right in, though I didn’t think she’d ever take on the bored sulk they seemed to wear. She had a vitality they suppressed.And her current tats were only temporary. Would she eventually trade them for real ones to camouflage her scars? A Muslim man wasn’t supposed to get tats, but then again a Muslim girl wasn’t supposed to be running around naked, about to sacrifice her.