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No, she could not really accept that!Morgan stood directly over her now, and she found herself looking up into his dark, flashing eyes, so much like her husband Brint's... but God, there was something else in them, something evil, something fascinating. It was that same fascinating "something" that she'd been avoiding during the younger man's stay in her house, the same "something" that made her feel that she hated him, loathed him, in fact. And now, for some reason she could not turn her eyes. Yet for the first time in forever I felt something else. I felt not burdened.“Mick?”“Yeah?”“I don’t see the fat.”“No? But you are going to feel it,” I said squeamishly.“I already have when we cuddled in the chair.”“That seems different.”“Come on, I have some dirty spots I need you to soap up.”Aaaaaarrrrrggggghhhhhhh.Hell of a time to ask, ‘What would Jesus do?’ I took a breath. Come to my shower said the spider to the fly.“Start the shower. I will be right there.”Kendi smiled and knew.She went. “Yes,” I moaned a reply. “I have never done it, but when alone in my bed I fantasise of having one of these in my mouth as I pleasure myself. Can I take yours into my mouth and use it? Will you teach me? You are meant to be teacher after all?” I couldn’t argue. I was a teacher, but a teacher of English and History, not Sex Education. “Oh yeah, help yourself,” I moaned as I bit hard on my bottom lip. I knew it wasn’t right, but I was aroused more than I had been in years. Her friends stepped. “Perhaps a commemorative tattoo.”She KNOWS how I feel about tattoos, so when my eyes snap right to look at her, she’s got that epic smirk that I’ve seen before.“Gotcha!” she laughed. “Tommy don’t cotton to no tattoos,” she continued, broadening the accent for effect.“You ARE in a good mood.”“Yes. Mizz Donna explained the facts about timelines and life and stuff.”“Mizz Donna,” I repeated.“Yes, Cindy’s mom. Mister Bill’s wife. Mother to Elise and carrying Bill Junior. Who did a bunch of stupid.
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