‘Mine’s not,’ she said. “ I’ll race you.” Quick as a flash, we were almost running to the parking lot to go back to her place. Once we got...to her house, I thought for just an instant about what would happen if her husband came home. I decided that I didn’t really care. We went to the bedroom and started kissing and disrobing each other. I picked her up off the floor and lowered her into the bed. I knew this was going to be good. I had never been with a girl this beautiful and I knew I had to. Expressions of “fuck me hard”, “give it all to me”, and “bury that cock deep inside my pussy”, are not uncommon on these encounters. Remember, we can be vocal because we are now empty nesters. We have the whole hous for our sex. One of the things that we had been talking was my interest for my wife to enjoy eating pussy and to experience the satisfaction of feeling better when a woman is “whorish” because her sex is so fascinating. My experience every time I eat my wife’s pussy is that I love. The ghost, the beautiful murderess sitting on my couch.Her lips sloped into a crooked smile, she sat with her legs crossed, arms spread wider than Jesus as she leaned back into the cushion. She was translucent as last night, but brighter than before, glowing, phosphorescently. This time she was clothed, in the white blouse and blue jeans she’d worn the day of her execution.“They shot me dead. But you shot life inside me, dear,” she spoke, and a bluish mist puffed from her mouth, accompanied her. Maybe atattoo on where his pubic hair used to be. A gothic 'S' for slave. Orsissy. Maybe on his thigh, right by his cock. Or his ass. But maybebranding him would be more....effective." We'll discuss it later, dear."Mrs. Kent walked up to Billie."Look, at me, child. Time for your weekly maintenance spanking, isn'tit?"Billie nodded meekly."Very well."She went to the wall where hung several instruments and selected a whip."I always find that this," she held up the whip "is a very.