Saturday my wife was off and I had him call her about meeting for lunch, so they discuss what occurred. She was very nervous and hesitant and said it...might not be a good idea. Ed said, "Charlotte, come on girl, please, I have images in my mind and on my camera of what you did, please, lets meet and discuss it at lunch. Tell your husband you are going shopping for the day. Go buy some things first." She said, "OK" and they set the time and place. She was so nervous. Friday night she was. He cannot stop or alter the inevitable results. He has no control over his body. All of my actions culminated in this moment. I had caused this to happen. I was in control. The proof of my success, similar to a rainbow after a storm, is the wondrous sight of a man's cum spurting from his penis. Some women don't like it. Some are turned off by the taste, smell, and texture. Some don't like to see it or feel their lovers come in their mouths. They feel controlled. Not me. I am in control. I can. She wasn’t the first person, nor indeed the last, to have suffered this indignity. Either being rodgered by the coachman, a noted randy cocksman, or turned to marble in flagrante as it were. In truth he was shocked, having spent years under the impression that his dear wife the Duchess must have been the result of rape, the idea of his mother-in-law, a veritable dragon, actually participating in a sexual act willingly being completely unthinkable. A shame, he mused looking at the well formed. He placed the lady across the room in that role in his mind’s eye, thinking of how she would respond as he touched her, loved her. He realized he had developed an erection at his thoughts, embarrassed, he snuggled closer to his table to cover it. It had been so long. _____________________________________________ Janet got up, walked to the bar, ordered a second drink. She really didn’t want the drink, she wanted…Oh, what did she want? She looked at the man sitting there as she walked back to.