“I don’t like secrets”, I said, “Secrets fuck things up, secrets are a waste of time”. She suddenly placed her hand on my leg, I felt myself...tingle from her touch, I felt the feelings that I had repressed for so long come to the surface. “You like that?” she said, moving her hand up and down my leg. “I...I don’t know”, I said, knowing full well that I loved it. “I know you do”, she said, suddenly moving her hand up to my panties and slipping her fingers in me. “I can’t drive with you doing. He told me to stand up "look at you all horny and you're telling me you don't want me to take you" he whispered while kissing my neck, he then turned me around and bent me over the bed (at this point there was no escaping it so I just gave in, he was a lot stronger than me aswell so even if I were to struggle it would all be in vain) he grabbed a buttplug lubed it up and started working my ass with it, at first it hurt a tiny bit then I started like it and actually let out a faint moan, he. It didn’t, but it gave me food for thought, especially when we’d finished our meal and he asked if I would like to stop and have coffee and a brandy at his place. After four beers, half a bottle of wine and the few drinks I’d had earlier, I was in a mellow mood and agreed. We split the tab between us and left the restaurant and as we walked to where all the cars were parked, I noticed that he walked with a limp. ‘Bad leg?’ I asked. ‘After a fashion. Got it in the service,’ he replied. . I was confused but I listened telling him that he could tell me anything and should never be afraid because he already knew how much I loved him. So, he finally said it. “I have Cystic Fibrosis.” I would tell you that I was shocked and so upset but I really didn’t know what that meant. I had done a research paper on CF just the year before, but for the life of me I couldn’t remember what CF was. Randy explained a little bit. He told me that everyone produces mucous in their lungs, but people.