His hair was short - looked recently trimmed - a little gray at the temples. Nice.Three hours and at least three rum runners later, we were laughing a...d talking like two old friends. We talked about everything. He was widowed at a young age - only thirty-four at the time. His wife had died of a rare blood disease. They hadn't had children. He never found anyone else that he could be serious about. So here he was at forty-eight, overworked, and on vacation alone.I couldn't believe this handsome,. I could hear his breathing becoming more ragged; as my own was speeding up…The heat sensation moving through my body began to go lower, closing in upon my groin.One of his knees pressed between mine. I tried to hold my thighs together, but a hand moved down and pulled one knee away.“Do not fight me, bitch… it would be better for you…” He hissed.My eyes were still closed and I remained silent…Suddenly, his fingers were grasping my curly hair, pulling my head back. I opened my eyes, finding. Peter passed the old church and neared the traffic signal that served as a divider between the urban area of the city and his older, but well kept neighbourhood of middle-aged middle-class families who were well paid, but quickly drained by endless lists of bills and payments. His family, not unlike the rest of the neighbourhood, were quickly dwindling to recollect happier times.Peter was always concerned about his family's well being. His wife, Gloria, a beautiful Mexican woman he had met in. A few of them were dirty emails, describing what people would do to me if I *were* their daughter and did I want to Role-play? These at least got me hot, and also got me into a chat room where I started role-playing. This relieved some of the tension, but I was still a walking hormone. No serious help came, so I took matters into my own hands.I thought if I couldn’t get dad or the dog, I could at least get someone to notice me. I just felt like doing something ‘taboo’. So one morning after.