I was left with just two problems. The first problem was that Stacey had flat-out told me to refrain from sex until I got home and she could help ‘f...x’ me. Assuming I needed fixing, I didn’t really think anything was wrong with me. It was a hard thing to do, and in fairness to Stacey, she realized it. That was why she’d told me to get my pussy pierced, as a reminder. My second problem was sitting beside me. I really, really liked Jenny, we both had the same cravings for cock and pussy and were. I told Joan that her name was Anita, and Joan told me to have fun. Anita asked me if that was wifey on the phone and I told her it was. She wanted to know what Joan thought of me being with her and I told her she was fine about it. “You don’t cheat on her? So I told her that our marriage was not like that. Of course Anita wanted to know how, so I explained it to her without going into too much detail. She didn’t believe a word I was saying until I called Joan and said Anita wants to know. "On his way to the courthouse tavern two days later Beall passed a brace of oxen pulling a stone-weighted scraper along the crest of the road. He waved to the driver, Mose Clagett, and smiled as he went by. A bit farther on two men were knee deep in a weedy roadside ditch swinging large sickles. A mattock and two long- handled shovels lay nearby. Beall stopped, exchanged nods with the two young men who had sweated through their shirts despite the cool, clear weather. There was no need for words. The pleasure was so exquisite! My heart was pounding like mad in my chest, and in my neck, as my hand kept stroking my throbbing cock until I had no more sperm to expend! I wanted to groan out loud with the deep, and very satisfying pleasure, but I didn't wish to disturb Mara's sleep; and so I leaned against the edge of the sink, staring down at the sperm I'd just ejaculated. There, as it slowly dripped down the curving side of the sink bowl, was my genetic history---going to waste---and almost.