She was happiest there too, and trying to relocate to happiness had a futile ring to it, but she no longer cared for misery either. A woman can’t si...ply be happy. A woman can’t search for it either. For her happiness either just came or didn’t no matter where she went. Such was the female poet’s dilemma. While she pushed herself to greater heights, there was always something weighing her down, dragging her below the earth no matter how hard she tried. It seemed to her like an odd paradox—the. He did usually lay with his cock against her slit as he nursed, and when filled and she had patted his back well he would slide into her dripping and so ready pussy, and they would cum together as he filled her with his milky-ness.This would happen early morning before the children woke. Then in mid-morning, Subject H would pump. Most days they would have a mid-day nursing session when he would hurry home for lunch, or she would get a sitter and go to his office. Those times were so. More

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