Well, that did it.I got pissed at him all over again, and beat him up really badly.He was trying to get away from me. But he just couldn't crawl fast ...nough to get away. The thing is, I was getting a hard on, from beating him up. I got so excited doing that to him that I made him suck my dick, and I fucked him up his ass. I called him my bitch, my whore, my slut.It was just like my father did to us kids, when I was small.After that, he had me sent home. If I only would have known it was that. Still holding his shirt up, she felt his free hand on her chin. Upon his touch she rubbed deeper on her thong, pressing her pussy harder. She could feel the dampness soak through.He moved his palm from her chin and reached down, groping her breast. The thong was now to the side, and her fingers inside her wet pussy. She glanced up and saw he was more interested in her playing with her pussy than her sucking his cock.She was now on her feet again, her open lips on his open lips, tongues. “It’s been too long.”The Senator leaned over her on the sofa. He kissed her on the lips and then eased his tongue between her lips. She started to suck on his tongue as his finger ran up and down over her rapidly moistening panties. She pulled back and started to kiss over his face and the top of his head as his finger worked her panties aside. Angela let out a guttural moan and with a wild look in her eyes licked the top of his head as her hands pulled his t-shirt up. She ran her hands over. Joey flatly refused to go. At the station my first husband Johnny Bianchi was disappointed about leaving Joey behind. As soon as Joe reached the farmhouse and between them Joey and Granny Harris explained to him how I’d left with my first husband and how it came about that he was still alive, Joe jumped on his bike and rode hell for leather to the railway station.Why the station? Johnny, the businessman and club owner from Chicago, was afraid of flying. Joe had me comfortable flying solo in all.