“Seth Connors!” growled an angry voice from outside.I looked and found Mrs. Hartwell climbing the steps. She had a long, heavy coat wrapped around...her and snow stuck to her boots. Her face was bent with anger, and apparently, I was the focus of that rage.Olive stepped between us. “Slow down, sister,” she said with benevolent certitude. “Whatever this young man has done, you need to give him a chance to explain before you fry him.”So much for good sex dousing her beliefs that I’m some sort of. God, it was better than pornography because it was all true and it had generated tingles of forbidden temptation inside her the likes of which she’d never even dreamed of! She’d even been tempted to experiment with some of the wanton tales that subjects — people just like you and me – – had told the interviewer, such as which positions offered the greatest penetration, if they preferred a hard mattress to a water bed — things she’d never considered in her husband’s missionary style . I lied and told him there was a woman with him and we shouldn't just go over like that we might cause trouble. A few days later we were out and went by his place and sure enough he was outside so Steve decided to pull in and make small talk. Long story short after talking with him for a while (very sweet man) we decided to meet up at our place that evening. I was so nervous the rest of the day just thinking about what might happen. I got all dolled up with my hair and make up perfect and put on. Not wanting the evil little anal invader to escape, she used another piece of rope to keep it in place. She then helped me onto the floor, where she pulled my ankles up and tied them to the end of the armbinder. Not only was the strictness of the armbinder killing me, but lying on the fake pussy was uncomfortable too. After she had me fully secure, I could here her laughing at me struggles. ?All comfy? It’s gonna be a bit for you in this position.? She then turned the fake pussy.