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Never in my life–nor my afterlife–had I had to struggle with myself as I did now to keep my composure. That–accent! I exhaled slowly, and I composed myself anew before I dared to speak again. ‘Honestly, I don’t know. And, honestly, I couldn’t care less. It’s as I said before, that is completely and most absolutely up to Sir.’ ‘Then who…?’ ‘Who am I?’ She nodded. ‘And what? What purpose do you serve?’ Had my heart still beat beneath my breast, it would have stopped then and there. For the first time in my existence I was dumbstruck–and I despised it. And I despised her for bringing it out in me. My instincts leapt at the opportunity and bid my muscles to flex to reach towards her, to seize her and to take her and to tear her asunder and to rend her limb from limb… All of this I saw so clearly in my mind, in an instant, as if I’d acted out the dreadful deed without a moment’s hesitation. But I had hesitated. More than that, I’d outright stopped myself. I had had no other choice, after. He said, before your shower, shawty, you got to stretch out again. She smiled, hoping that was really code for fucking. Becuzz the sight of him standing there, all cut up and toned, made her super wet. He took her hand and guided her to the bed. He took her towel from her and laid her across the foot of the bed on her back. Naked, sweaty, and sore, she felt him run his fingers along her thighs, and then lift them, stretching them toward her. He gently pushed them back, further and more, toward her perky tits. Her honeycomb hideout was freshly shaved and she saw him look at her as he cocked her legs open, stretching her hamstring by leaning gently in with his body weight. This pressure made her feel him hardening up, and his feel made her moan. This made him press himself further against the soft, fat lips of her slit. She ground back against her husband, looking at his eyes as he concentrated on hers. She did not see his hand vanish, but when it reappeared, then she noticed it. And.
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