"And yet people have this need to believe in something," Mr. Hathaway said. "In some cases, as we've seen in recent years, they believe in Power. They...worship it, and do everything they can to attain and keep it. Others, and here I think Robespierre is an example, believe in what they're doing to the exclusion of everything else. Thus anyone who gets in their way is a heretic, a non-believer.Traditionally, religion has had only one solution for heretics, and that is to kill them. They justify. He explained he had wired the whole house with hidden cameras for Edith's and his swinging activities. He said the night he taped us he was particularly lonely and horny so he turned on our bedroom camera catching us in action. I noticed as we talked, the bulge in his pants grew. From the tapes I had an idea of the package he was carrying and I wanted some of it. I walked over to him and began stroking his cock through his pants. "You dirty old man, I'm horny as hell. What are you going to do. " he called out and approached her. In the context of art, if Rhea were Botticelli's wet dream then her husband would qualify as a certifiable nightmare. The contrast did not end at their physical appearance alone, for as wealthy as her husband was, he was also a classless brute, for whom 'beauty' was just the amount of zeros in front of his net worth. He also for some reason fancied himself a ladies man, "There she is, the eight wonder of the world." he grinned and delivered a customary smack. I was facing her direction as she picked up the sheets and climbed in. She lifted them up high enough that she could have seen my cock sticking out but I didn't know if she had. She climbed in and slid down under the sheets and I knew that the nightie had to be halfway up her tummy. She turned toward me for another hug and kiss good night just like the night before. I gave her a little kiss on the lips and said "good night mom". My hand went around her back and pulled her toward me for the hug..