He could feel one of her hands move down pushing inside his shorts and then her fingernails grazing lightly on his balls. She pushed him back. "Get th...se things off," she told him. He quickly complied with her request while she squirmed out of the bikini bottoms. "Don't you think we should go upstairs," he asked, his breathing labored and voice husky. "I like the kitchen...everybody in this family likes the kitchen, don't they?" It was like she was speaking in riddles, teasing him about his dad. Actually no, it’s worse. Comparing hell to retail is an insult to hell, which is like a five-star resort in comparison. People cramming themselves into stores forgetting the fact that human beings work there, and not autonomous machines designed to cater to their every whim. Then the corporate slave masters crack the whip demanding more cheer, smiles, and overabundance of festive attitude. Throw on top of that the never-ending loop of Christmas music and you have the recipe for a very cranky. ‘I mean, I understand what you’ve told us, but it does seem sinful to me at times. And that makes it worse, because I truly love what we’re doing.’ ‘Well, Shelley,’ Monsignor Sheamus O’Shaunessey began, ‘if you were doing these things only out of a sense of lust, not with a pure heart, without only love towards your husband at all times, then there would be an element of sin involved. But if your heart is pure, if your only desire in learning these things is to be able to please your husband,. It had taken many conversations but she finally agreed. Now all he had to do was control himself. Control is a fine art. There are many levels of control, and control over lust and sexual desire required concentration, especially given the subject ‘in hand’. They had talked about sex a lot. Each telling the other of various encounters, likes and dislikes. He was also fairly certain that they thought about each other as well, but the fates seemed to conspire to keep them apart. Tonight was about.