It certainly was. "Who fucked you, Mrs. Cash? It wasn't your husband was it?"She spoke quietly, "No... it was the men you sent to service me... Carl a...d James..." Tell Mr. and Mrs. Grant when you last fucked your husband." I can't exactly remember, three weeks ago, maybe more." Do you love your husband, Mrs. Cash?" Very much." So why is it so long." It's the rules... and we like it here." Fuck John for me, Mrs. Cash, now as he sits on the sofa."My cock was like iron. She straddled me and I. Instead, it's turned into nearly 24/7 fantasizing about what the next Friday would bring, and how much of a volcanic orgasm I'd have at this slim, tanned man's hands. Never mind that the days on the calendar cannot flip fast enough to Fridays when I knock at his door, lawnmower in tow. So here I was again, up early on a Friday, showering and slipping on something hot. This week I opted for running shorts. This pair probably should have been tossed in the recycling bin 2 years ago. I mean, they. More

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