Her legs have parted and her eyes are half closed. I say to myself, “Yes baby stick your finger in deep. Fuck yourself for me. Make yourself cum.”...My hand begins to stroke my cock faster; I feel the head of my cock as my hand slips over it. It is harder than I can ever remember it being. My hand sliding the length of it, in and out it goes. Wishing it was in her pussy, or that it was her hand stroking my cock. My mind has lost all thought of being caught at this point. Her eyes close and her. He saw me and wispered. "No swap at eight?"I wispered back. "No swap for a while I would guess. I started to have a period just before eight."He looked real puzzled. I wispered. "How long do your periods usually last."He shrugged. "No idea." What do you mean no idea?" I said.He said. "I never had any."I gulped. He said. "How bout the stuff in your locker. You get it back?"I just said. "Lost, everything." One of my books was destroyed, but I got the others and my glasses back. The frames are. It was late afternoon when they met and as time passed they became more comfortable in each other’s company. Both on business, both alone, both bored, both married, both partners sexually disinclined. Artificial formal conversation turned to relaxed smiles and laughter. Then onto casual touching of arms, backs, knees. The steady stream of alcohol helped, of course. It loosened their coyness and inhibitions. It also helped to remove suit jackets and loosen buttons on blouse and shirt. They moved. If you're going to walk around on egg shells trying to outrun my ending the relationship, I will end it right here. Love is trust. You say you love me, no matter how misguided that feeling might be. But your actions say you don't trust me. Love is trust and trust is love. They go hand in hand. If you think I would come over here and do what we did only to have me come back and take you out to dump you, how much do you trust me? I can tell you that if the circumstances of our relationship were.
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