"The weather is warm, so you won't need acoat." I knew that this was an instruction, not just a suggestion."Remember to purchase some more panty liner... while you're out," sheadded. "Then change into your pinafore dress - there's a lot of ironingto do. Mother has said she wants you to iron her knickers, so when I getback I want to see three tidy piles of freshly ironed knickers. One pileof Mother's knickers, one pile of my knickers, and one pile of your ownknickers. Now you know what my knickers. My cock is already hard as a rock and pointing at the ceiling. You position yourself over me grabbing the base of my long thick cock and sliding it inside of you. You let out a long slow moan as you let yourself slide down my hard throbbing cock. All I can manage is a half grunt half sigh and I grip your soft smooth thighs. You grab the rails on the cot and start to slam down on to me. "OH SHIT!" I grunt thinking to myself this crazy bitch really means business. I start to thrust up into you. We seemed to go on pretty much like we had before. 'The Kiss, ' as I had begun to enshrine it in my memory, might have been forgotten by everybody but me.Then it was spring. April. The cruelest month, somebody once said, talking about the painful awakening of new life after the death of winter, kind of like fingers recovering from frostbite. But my desire for Karen certainly hadn't died; it had survived the dead season more alive than ever, though just as frustrated.Now, however, some subtle. It was a Thursday, and she dreaded Saturday, or for that matter, the next two nights. What excuse would she have for his absence tonight and Friday and then finally, the weekend. She thought about telling the children the truth, but they were so young and innocent. They would never understand; especially Andrea. There had to be something she could say ... there had to be.As Andrea and Scott left for school, Jeanette picked up the phone and called The Wagon Wheel. There was no answer at this.