Reality met fantasy, and it involved a ride home from work. Her k**s were with her ex husband for the summer and she was lonely. I don't have k**s, so...we talked about hers. She talked about how she accidently broke her sons favorite toy. Me, being pretty handy, suggested that I look at it, and see if I could fix it. I had to work a little, but I got her to stop by her house. Once inside, she handed me the toy. As I looked at it, I couldn't help but also take a glance down her shirt. She had. She knows it will never be enough, because she now understands true regret. It’s not lip-service, or a vague wish that you could change the past: it’s a rush of shame so strong it burns through you, changing you as it goes. Hammering you into a different shape, like a lump of metal at the hand of a blacksmith. Maybe that’s why they talk about hellfire.After she slipped back onto his cock, she squeezed tightly. She tore open her shirt and half-turned towards him, gazing hotly over her shoulder. More

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