I pretend not to notice when he farts in bed. I don’t use sex as a negotiating tool. I’ve got plenty of other negotiating tools. So what’s hi... problem? It can’t be me. It has to be him. It’s some sort of mid-life crisis. He’s forty-seven years old. He’s been feeling some arthritis in his knees recently. Maybe his body isn’t cut like it used to be (and George was never a hunk, for heavens sake). Maybe he needs some reassurance of the female kind. On the other hand, I don’t mean to be. As I approached the porch, I noticed the light from one candle being lit, coming through the big living room window. It was just letting off enough light that I could see your shadow sitting in a chair in the middle of the living room. I started to knock, but the door seemed to open by itself. I stepped in to the entryway, watching you turn your head just slightly to acknowledge my entrance. I stood at the door, scoping out your fantastically toned body, as you slowly rose up. You were wearing. “I don't have the bitch's fuckin' stuff, alright, let's just blow them off, I wanna go back to sleep, okay” he barked at Kaylee.I had had enough. I went down the hall, into the bedroom, and there was Josh, looking bleary eyed and angry, obviously not dealing too well with this intrusion on his hangover sleep.“Hi, I'm Mike.” I introduced myself “You need to get some clothes on so you and I can go down and get Chantelle's bag from your car.”“Fuck off, asshole” was the ill considered response. I. She smiled at him with his sperm dripping all over her lovely face. ‘Do I look pretty like this, Geoffie?’ she asked sweetly. He blinked in shock, but somehow remembered what she wanted. He leaned back against the wall and frankly sneered at her. ‘You look like a nasty little slut, Amy,’ he growled, stroking his cock lazily. ‘Aren’t you ashamed? Naked and dripping with sloppy sperm. Sweaty little whore…’ She shivered and bit her lip, her cheeks reddening. ‘Oh, Geoffie… Don’t say that…’ But her.