This is what happened to my wife, Ann. It had been earlier this spring when I hired a young man to take care of our lawn. Connor was only nineteen, bu... seemed to have a good head on his shoulders. He came highly recommended by someone I had worked with and was extremely reasonable with his price. I hired him without even meeting him, and when he showed up for the first time, I was quite impressed with his professionalism. Ann gave him a tour of our yard and showed him the areas she wanted him. Maybe that was just who she was or maybe it was a result of living thereas a foreigner that made her more willing to look up at what was aroundher.This was really the first time though, that she felt compelled to spendevery little bit of time that she had to occupy her attention withconstantly referencing her phone. When she thought about it she seemedto spend a lot more time checking her phone for texts from Derek andsending him texts of her own today. Derek didn't mind her constantstream of. In part, because I don’t know whose cock has been there. In part, because there’s no shame on her anymore. It’s the smell of shame in the air that gets me going. I didn’t even take off her panties yet. I’m a patient man. I teach literature. I know that pacing is the golden secret to a satisfactory release. I grabbed her cheeks and parted them, holes still covered by that white plain cloth traced by subtle spots of wetness, and pushed my nose hard inside her. The almost ethereal scent of teenage. I grabbed it and gritted my teeth as it started to strangle me. I couldn’t get the shotgun against it without risking blowing my own head off. I surged backwards, falling against the main control console. My palm slapped down and several toggles flipped. The metal in the testing chambers started to rotate as searing white light shot from the wall - lasers or something. I hefted the shotgun one handed and shot out one of the chunks of glass. The spread of shotgun pellets blew out the glass with.