Julia and I would spend evenings together, me with my studies, her with her embroidery. We would share the same sort of companionable silences that...spoke so much of the depth of comfort in each other's company. I did several paintings of her that winter. In later years I would realize they were shallow, actually, with simple love and overly-romantic images. I never apologized for the message in my paintings though, for it was true. One evening I looked up from my studies and. I’m just trying to think positively. For all I know it’s your fault we are in this mess.’ ‘Well that’s just typical of you isn’t it Mon? Always blame someone else, never yourself.’ ‘Oh I see, so it was all my fault that you told everyone I had slept with my Dad.’ ‘Well you shouldn’t have said made up that lie about me having a foursome with Mike, Brad and Steve should have you?’ ‘You stole my boyfriend! You expected me to just taking that lying down? Do you not know me at all Jess.’ ‘You still. " She looked around uncomfortably – it was the first time I can ever remember having seen her looking awkward. "Finish up the paperwork for the week while I'm gone...I'll see you on Monday."I tried my best not to let my chin hit the desk. I wasn't fired? "Of course," I finally stammered. "Have a good vacation."I wasn't deluding myself – she wasn't inviting me to keep doing anything, she was just a decent enough person not to fire me for trying to help, no matter how inappropriate what I had. " he says in a calm voice.The very words are like being lit on fire. She cannot believe the sensations. Her pussy is far beyond wet but that command. And the knowledge that she will follow it. That she wants to. Is like a raw pulse of pleasure. She feels one line of wetness run down her inner thigh.Her voice is a little shaky since there are still tears flowing, "Make me scream master... please."The hiiiiissssss is a constant for a violent moment. Six Thwacks! on her already throbbing backside..