The coroner had suggested that there had been a compound fracture during the accident, and the explosion or flames had separated the two pieces."I hop... the bastard was unconscious when it blew," said the coroner. "That's a nasty way to die, when you know what's happening to you." Yeah," said Bob, trying to find something to clean his hands on. He had bits of burnt flesh clinging to them.He had four more hours of paperwork to get through, before he could go home and clean up. He was able to call. If I thought I was blushing before, I learned my lesson then and there. My cheeks felt like they were on fire I was so humiliated. I felt tears leaking from my eyes as I silently cried. When I tried to cover up she just laughed all the harder at me. I cowered away from her scorn, so frozen in shame I couldn’t even run away.She rose to her feet, in control of her laughter now, and commanded me loudly, ‘hands on your head!’ I found myself conforming to her command.‘I can’t believe how easy you. My hands cupped her boobs.I squeezed those big and heavy mounds. My fingers dug into them. I shook them. She groaned, her whimpers echoing through the bedroom. I loved the sound she made. My mouth hungered. My cunt clenched and futa-cock throbbed.I slipped my legs off the bed as I smooched to her boobs. I followed her breastbone down between her tits. I rubbed those big and lush mounds into the sides of my face. I saw why my daughter liked them big.“Oh, Madeline,” the sexy wife said. “Mmm, this. "Mrs. Honeysuckle," I asked, "Is it true you have a flower that talks?" I asked, as I tried to keep a straight face—hoping to get the facts."I do," she said, "I'll show you what flowerbed he's in—then you're on your own. I'm not going to go near that guy! He uses such terrible language. Yesterday... he called me a Slut." Well, that wasn't very nice," I said, sympathizing with her."Okay, See him over there! He's in the Daffodil bed," she said, pointing to about forty daffodils all planted close.