For the second time you are forced to retreat, the walls rippling and contracting around you until you are pushed back through the open door and are o...ce more standing outside on the porch. Tears of frustration leak from your eye and ooze down your skin. You brush yourself down, straighten up even more, lower your head and rush back inside as fast as you can. I gasp with fright and the pleasure of seeing this masculine display of brute force. With your head poised just inches from me you are. It promised a bright summery day at six on Saturday. I showered, put a pair of chinos and a jacket on a hanger, threw on a t-shirt and shorts, tossed sox, underwear, and my toilet kit into a bag and thought for a moment. I slipped on my runners. Thought again. No. Going commando was OK; she’d specified a nude beach. I then fixed and ate breakfast, took the mineral water and fruit out to my eight-year-old 4×4, and went back for my bag and hanger. It didn’t occupy much space.Laura was waiting for. Then again. And again. Nothing.My hunch was correct - well, at least apparently. The man lived alone - a widower or divorcee, I assumed. My other indication that I had seen that day was the lack of another vehicle on the property. In this day and age, very few wives don't have cars. The door was locked, but that only took a second to fix. Entering the house, I quickly looked from room to room. It was just a farm house. A very nice one, to be sure - obviously the owner made some serious. A very volatile character, who at times could be the sweetest woman alive, and at other times a complete bitch. When it came to sex she was a total vamp. She loved everything except pain. Despite having two k**s, she was determined to have a social life, and would regularly engage the services of some teenage girls, to mind the k**s while she went out drinking. It was quite near Christmas and I was going through one of my many phases of living with her. I had been to a works night out and.
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