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So far he hadn’t experienced any threat to his personal safety, but the fear of being attacked or sexually assaulted was his constant companion. He knew his nerves were in tatters – the constant noise of the prison environment only serving to add to the mental torture of incarceration. Prisons are, for those who have never been inside such institutions, pretty noisy places. Not only is there the constant sound of conversation, often of the shouting and swearing variety, there is also the noise of hard shoes walking on hard floors and echoing off hard walls and ceilings to contend with. And then of course there were the alarms, and the lockdowns, and the banging of cell doors, and the barked orders of the prison officers. Peter’s nerves were hanging by a thread like the sword of Damocles, and he was unsure as to whether or not he had the mental reserves to endure much more. Though he was by no means a religious man, he found his meetings with the prison chaplain to be one of his only. So loud and deep was the sound that the dishes in the cabinets might just have rattled from pressure of the sound waves.Darlene always loved the deepness of the sounds he made and the strength she could exert on her husband. She hummed again. Driving Reeve where she wanted him ... deep in lust ... deep in desire for her.In one swift motion her hands slid her sweat pants to her ankles. As she shifted up and over him, the pants were shorn and she brought her lips to his. A brief kiss and she asked him, "Liked that didn't you!" Very much," was his almost silent, gasping answer.Kneeling, chest to chest with him as he sat on the couch, Darlene lowered her hips and knitted their bodies together. When she had his full length inside of her, she clamped around him and lifted up.She let their lips separate and snuggled her nose into the hollow at the edge between his neck and shoulder. Kissing him there, she hummed again, sending glorious sparks through his body. It was a trick she had.
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On impulse, Sandra reached up with her hand. Gently turning his face toward hers, she kissed him lightly on the lips. They walked hand in hand to his car. He did not try to grab her ass like Billy would have, nor paw her breasts. As he drove her home, Sandra smiled to herself. She was exposed to a new kind of cool. The classy, gentlemen’s cool. Now, she understood, for the first time in her life, just what it was. Sunday dinner was fun and most informative for Sandra. Billy’s interaction with their children had been shallow. Not Harold. He put both teens at ease immediately. He got them to talk about what in school and in their life they were interested in. Teens talking? The man was magic. Wednesday night, she went with him to his home. It was a large old farm house with four bed rooms, a large living room, and a completely finished off basement. After a meal that he had cooked, they were sitting on the couch talking. They had been talking about a subject of local interest, when.

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