This has continued for a week. I was confused and wanted to know why she isn’t replying to me. So, I went to her home. She opened the door and went ...o the kitchen to get coffee.Me: What happened, why aren’t you replying to me?She: Nothing. I just felt to be alone.Me: What happened? Just say. I am always there for you.She: We fought and I don’t want to talk to anyone.Me: We? Who?She: Me and my hubby.Me: Why?She: Nothing. (She started crying)I went next to her and sat beside her. I asked her not. So here’s the short version, I was married for twelve years, and thought everything was fine, until about a year ago, when I discovered, I wasn’t the woman making my husband happy. It was some skinny, blonde-haired trollop half my age. Without cluing me in that we were having problems, he divorced me, and moved in with her. End of story, I’m trying to move on.”“That’s despicable; no man should ever do that to a woman, especially his wife. He should have been a man, boned up to it, and sat down. She'll get soaked, I thought, wondering where she had got to on the mountain, wondered whether she had found some shelter from the storm.I went back to the bed and slept fitfully for two or three hours more before another thunder filled squall line rolled down the valley and woke me. After watching the electric light show bounce across the walls for minutes I finally got up to piss, knowing it'd be hours before I slept again.She was huddled under the porch overhang just to the left of the door. That was all the encouragement I needed to take Joanne for myself. Pushing her to her knees I told her to pull my shorts down and free my aching cock.As she tugged my shorts down, my cock sprang out in front of Joanne's face her eyes fixed on it. With my shorts off, Joanne instinctively placed her hand on my shaft.I've not been blessed with an enormous cock like most men claim, but her tiny hand made it look so much better.She couldn't help it; it's what she did, it's what she's good at, it's.