‘They’re both on sleep-over with friends,’ she said, taking my hand as we walked along the porch. When we got to the freezer I looked at it lon...ingly as I deposited my jacket there. ‘Don’t get any ideas,’ Lydia laughed. It was good to see her in such a good mood. At the kitchen she turned to me, ‘would you like to go to the sewing room or to my bedroom upstairs? There’s light in the sewing room but not in my bedroom, I don’t want the neighbors to get any ideas.’ We were standing in front of. But Abe had come bounding in, allflapping tongue and flying snow, and when John had casually leaned in and given her a peck on the cheek, it had all felt so natural and comfortable. In fact, in the moments before he had arrived, she had worried enough to nibble at her nails, thinking about how she was going to tell him that she wasn’t looking for a relationship. Not right now. Not right after Jackson. And they had already established that she wasn’t ‘that’ kind of woman, one who was interested. Her husband wouldn’t know—he would assume she would be inseminated by artificial means, and she didn’t see why she should tell him. And they could afford it too—no problem with that. The main thing, though, was that she wanted to make sure that the inseminator would sign over an agreement, that he would relinquish all rights to the c***d, and would not be considered a parent. The looks of the inseminator, his physical makeup? Well, she would prefer that he be halfway attractive anyway and not. ”“Wow! That is a good fantasy.”She pulled her husband up and positioned his cock at her pussy. He sank to his full six-inch length with no resistance.She moaned as Chris fucked her. She kissed her husband and told him, “It doesn’t have to be a fantasy.”Chris pounded her cunt as she spoke lewdly about her lovers. “That’s it fuck me hard. Think about me in Steve’s car. He would run his hand under my skirt and feel my pussy. He would be kissing my tits. Maybe someone would be watching us. They.