His other hand stroked the underside of my breast, making me so wet I couldn’t think straight. ‘But first, you must tell me something. Tell me tr...thfully, tell me honestly.’ He tilted my chin back with his hand, replacing it on my breast when I was looking at him. ‘Is this all for me?’ he asked softly, sliding his hand underneath my skirt and touching my wetness. I was horrified, he knew that I was wet, wet for him. This was something I never wanted anyone to know, it was a shameful secret I. At the tender age of 26, I work for one of the biggest law firms in the United States. You would think I was living the American dream — a great job and two wonderful kids, a big beautiful house and the car of my dreams. I hate to tell you this but everything isn’t what it seems. Things at home really aren’t all that great. You see my husband is a great guy with a great job and does everything he can to make me happy, but when it comes to my sex life things couldn’t be worse. You see my husband. Instead of going to my usual fast-food outlet we went to a restaurant where we had to wait ages between courses and listen to all the chatter of the predominantly women customers around us. "Get used to this and them, they are the women who you will be mixing with, so get yourself comfortable being among them. If you don't know it they all have been eyeing you up and down. I bet you one of them will be over to speak to me soon, then if you pass inspection the word will spread like wildfire. Sometimes a block would hold a huge knot. Graydon would swing a sledge hammer to drive a splitting wedge down through the knot until it would snap apart, sometimes violently; he would use a single-bit splitting axe to split the blocks down to fit the stoves. His job was to keep the wood boxes for both stoves full. He would save the larger, pine-knot chunks for laying up the parlor stove fire at night. Despite that, the parlor fire would by morning burn down to ashes and a few embers. Getting up.