He found out, of course. He killed my lover. He almost killed me.Then he killed himself.No. I killed him.I know. I have no right to live on. But I do.... could annoy you with repentance and remorse, but I won't. Not because I don't honestly feel it. I do feel remorse, about ten tons of it and they all weigh on my heart.But there is no point, is there?My love is dead. George is gone. So is every dream I ever had. I carelessly and thoughtlessly threw them away. I betrayed and killed the one good. He replied very promptly and we started to exchange messages, says his name was John and sent a couple of pictures of his cock. It was beautiful, 7 inches with a slight curve upwards, cut and shaved. Just how I like them.I asked where we could meet, he said that couldn't host because his wife is at home. I suggested we meet at the park toilets very close by to both of us. We both agreed.I had several moments during the drive to just turn back, but I fought that urge and decided to go. I drove. Each of her refusals were met with a more enticing offerand the last offer was made just a couple nights ago. That offerincluded Mr. Wilmington divorcing his wife and marrying Opal without anykind of financial prenuptial agreement. That half of his intense wealthwould have been hers. More than that, she would have had a seat on hisboard of directors, giving her a say in the running of his multi-million-dollar businesses. It even included a financial setup that would havetaken care of me for. I didn’t even bother telling girls what size bras to get. Instead, I got the right one and put it on them.I noticed they all had a base layer, long underwear, a thin wool layer, pants, and shirts two sizes larger than they needed, medium weight jackets, and then oversized heavy-weight jackets. Once they liked what they had found, they stripped to their underwear to throw on whatever felt the most comfortable. Some wore sweats while others wore PJs. I could see they were very relaxed now that.