And, don’t get me wrong ... I have hated before. There was a man who, five or six years before, had stolen a woman away that I loved dearly. Well ..... that’s not quite accurate. Actually, it was I who was trying to steal the woman away from him. But that’s rather beside the point. The truth of the matter is, I had hated him. But not as much as I hated dear old Joe, who was now lying there in the living room. But I hadn’t meant to, I swear. And that brings us to numberTwo: If that was the case. The smell lingered in the air and the taste coated my mouth. And for that moment my mind went counterclockwise. Almost like a silent movie, I watched it. My face and my breasts being pressed firmly against the wall. Feeling like I too may become part of the paint. But loving every fucking second of it. My pussy getting so damn wet when he snatched me by my hair and pressed my ass to the front of his jeans. He was the only man I would let touch me that way. And I thought I might be crazy, that a. More

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