" Well, I must say I don't like it," Winona responded, pouting and wiggling her hips, trying to refocus Alex's attention. "I prefer the old Alex bette.... He seemed ... I don't know, more 'real', more authentic. This new you seems a bit artificial. As if you're trying to be something you clearly aren't. You've always been moody and preoccupied, but before it made you more human, more concerned with people. This new attitude makes it seem like you no longer care about anyone." Yeah, that was. ' Bill scratched his head just above his right ear. 'Fuck! I don't remember!'Bill was in a panic. Inside his mind, he was born in 1946. The second child of a dad who still suffered from the memories of the Second World War.Those weeks in the pine forests of Western Michigan, "Camping" Dad called it. Long walks along the Lake Michigan shore, sometimes with Wili on his shoulders and 'Billyboy' running circles around the two of them ... those walks weren't for fun.Daddy was trying to find a place. He was telling her how tight she was, she was crying at this point from being ashamed and the pain. Frank kept lowering himself into her, until he was balls deep in her pussy. She said he just stopped, and looked at her and said, I'm going stay here for a moment and allow your pussy to fully get used to me, he then started to pull out slowly inch by inch, got the head of his dick, and then repeated the process again, slowly in and slowly out. This went on for several more moments until he. " he answered right back, clicking off his flashlight and crawling out from under the counter. "You get off on it, torturing me.." He paused. As he stood up I could still see a look of defeat across his face. "And sometimes I think you have ulterior motives." He said packing up his toolbox and heading for the garage door. Still disappointed in his weekend, my husband stomped off like a little boy who didn't get his way. "Well I did get you to fix the sink!" I replied happily, attempting to.