If she called him on it and told him to fuck off, then that would probably be the end of it. But he had a good inkling that she might not be feeling s... defiant anymore. ‘I don’t want to, Rach. But you’re leaving me no choice. You know, you do things and you think they don’t affect anyone but yourself. But there’s always a ripple. And right now, that ripple is fucking me right in the ass. I have a very easy way to get myself out of it. But, you know, I could be convinced to go a different. She woke me in the morning by plonking her pretty little bottom down on the bed and informing me that we were going shopping for a new dress.“I don’t want a new dress, my old one’s fine.” I whined, but she was having none of it and I gave up.The German gentleman had texted to say he would send a car to pick her up at 18:30 and take her to the Dorchester in Mayfair.“The Dorchester?”“Yes,” she laughed, “It’s a little bed and breakfast place in Mayfair.”“Yeah,” I grinned, “I think I’ve heard of. They were really big. I fantasized about seeing her nude but knew that would never happen as she always covered up and I would never be in a position to spy on her changing clothes. She didn't even wear shorts in the summer. It was always long pants and a regular blouse or sometimes a t-shirt. She always wore a bra too and was quite modest.One day it was especially hot and I was shirtless, only wearing a pair of short cut offs. I was working in my back yard doing some yard work. I was covered. I shuddered and felt guilty of something but was not thinking clearly enough to know what it was. It was then I wondered if I could fuck Mrs. Clark again and how best to go about doing so. That was the moment that the possibility of a fucking fuck up occurred to me and I started getting really neurotic. I can get that way but this time, I think I handled it really well. Instead of getting all worried about what she thought and how I could fix things, I remembered that our objective was to give.