I came back to my apartment in no time. And the next was her task. I just copied and pasted the same message with some small changes.“Need a selfie ...f you near any staircase. Remember no t-shirt, no shorts, or anything. The only thing in your hand should be your mobile phone. And one more thing. The rule implies right from the moment you step out of your PG door. Open your door, throw all your clothes inside and step out of the door”. Lol.Just by reading her replies, I sensed she was really. Even though I’d been at a swingers party on Saturday, I truly needed a to be fucked properly and I knew JD was the man. He’d done it before with rules and the help of his now ex-wife. This time, I knew it would be awesome. JD had sent some texts, making sure I wasn't backing out and included pictures of his magnificent cock. I dressed in the bathroom, telling a co-worker I had dinner with my man in an hour. I put on a black silk tank, a favorite leather mini, heels, and off I went. There was a. I knew I'd never really be able to understand how other people thought, but it was disturbing to me that people I knew and liked should be hurt or angry over my failure to anticipate their reactions. I reluctantly resigned myself to resuming an isolated life. In some ways, my life had been better when I had no one else in it. OK, not better, but certainly simpler and not at all complicated.I went to bed again a little early and fell into a very light sleep. I had dreams, but they were too vague. I spent the following 6-8 weeks in a coma-like state (the doctors insisted that it wasn’t a coma, but was merely a ‘deep sleep’. Gee, ya think?) My wife Susan was, of course, beside herself with worry. We had only been married for a little more than a year, and she was not ready to become a widow. She posted about my condition on an online forum where I had been an active member for many years, and was quickly overwhelmed by the dozens and dozens, perhaps even hundreds, of posts of sympathy and.