That they were FBI agents was without a doubt. They all look alike. Did they really think that after all this time I would finally decide to tell them...anything?I turned towards the Lear Jet that I'd just parked in its accustomed stall. Its door was invitingly open. Maybe I could just hop inside and slam the door behind me. Maybe the two feds would then go away and bother someone else. But I would do no such thing. I've been briefed multiple times on how to deal with feds or other forms of cop.. I acted badly. I..." No, Jan, it's not you, it's me." What?" I just can't lie to you anymore." Tim, what are you talking about?"He set the suitcase and briefcase down and led her to a chair while he remained standing."Jan, I don't know how to say this without hurting you... I want a divorce."Her mouth dropped open."What??? Tim, I realize I made you angry the other night at the restaurant but..." It has nothing to do with the restaurant. Jan, I... I've been seeing someone." You've what?" I've. . ) have always maintained that fantasies (of any kind) are okay so long as you don't try to act them out. [Obviously, dreaming of flying like a super hero should not give you the idea that you can leap from a tall building ... duh!]But at fifteen and under control by hormones totally unfamiliar to me, and similarly to others, there's sometimes a blurred line that we accidentally cross.So at the age of fifteen and proud of myself for getting into my high school frat (the hazing was annoying), I. My fingers moved down your body, over your nipples, down your stomach, tracing and inching downwards, down to the sweet spot, the spot that would make you shiver once again, the spot that would be the cause for another orgasm. My finger found your clitoris, rubbing around the sensitive tip, sliding inside your already wet pussy. I need to fuck you, you want me to fuck you. ‘Fuck me baby’ is all you say as you kneel on the edge of the bed. You place your feet on the floor, spreading your legs.