And both of us were emotionally immature. Each assumed that the other could read minds, would know how to produce happiness, and would unfailingly do ...o, and we became frustrated and resentful when all that magic wasn’t forthcoming. The first year went passably, but finished with a disturbingly tentative feel. I wondered if I was really in love at all, because living and sleeping full time with a man–a man I admired immensely–was not proving emotionally all that satisfying. He was always. Wearing a cropped, off the shoulder t-shirt and a skimpy thong bikini bottom, the gorgeous brunette makes her way over to her chaise by the pool. She stretches out on the chaise; she hasn’t gotten much sleep over the last few days, but her mood is euphoric. She’s basking in the feeling of contented satisfaction that only a woman who has been thoroughly well fucked can know. Lifting up one of her gorgeous shapely feet in front of her, she gazes at it admiringly, wiggling her delectable little. More

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