" Yes, you could have gotten countless blowjobs and cowgirl rides since I moved in. I would have dumped that jerk right then and rocked your world tha... night. I'm a dirty and naughty woman that needs to be taught a lesson. I certainly hope you'll be gentle with me, though."I leaned up against her and kissed her. "We'll see about that."She wrapped her arms around my head and kissed me right back. "Good to know," she responded before she pushed me back.The top half of her body immediately began. I bumbled out that I'd never sung professionally, and while I felt I did reasonably well singing along with music on the radio or in the shower, I wasn't sure my voice would help the song at all. Everyone ignored my protestations and urged me to give it a try. Crystal led me into the studio, and as we walked, she told me I'd be fine and that half the country singers couldn't carry a tune anyway. She said sarcastically, "Think of Bob Dylan or Willie Nelson – they can't sing for shit, but they're. It was painful for the injured, but all agreed that they should put some distance in, in case the bushwackers came back. Hank didn’t call them bushwackers, he called them frigging, mother-fucking, cock-sucking, minge-loving, shit-eating, pissheads. A description that turned a few women’s ears bright red. Others nodded. These women were starting to become independent. They did all hustle their children out of earshot though.They turned up the broad dry valley where ruts showed previous. Todd then spoke up and said he needed to be getting home. Or his wife would send out a search party. He’d call Mark later in the week to tell him everything was set to go.Later that week Todd called, and she was in the living room, when the phone rang. She answered the phone. “Hello, Ramsey residence, how can I help you?”“Hello Todd. I’m fine. Yes, he is here let me go get him.”She walked into the den, where Mark was doing something on the computer. “Honey, Todd’s on the phone.”“Okay, thanks..