But he enjoyed eating it, sitting at the kitchen bench. Then he sat down on the sofa and could think of nothing else to do, there was no Sally to orga...ise him, he had become so used to it over 5 years he no longer had any idea himself of what to do at home. He remembered again when they’d first met. Seeing her legs going by, then Paula from his office bringing the woman with the legs over to their table, him and who? Peter was it? The two women sat down with them and he’d had a drink too many. Within minutes two nice girls approached me. Having no trouble talking to strangers, I soon found myself in a lovely conversation. The girls wanted to know where my accent came from and after hearing I was from Amsterdam, they were even more eager to talk with me. They explained that it was an unusual quiet night and blamed it on the weather. Gave them a good laugh that the same weather was the main reason for me to come in. Lucy was petite brunette in her early twenties (I guessed). She was. I went right to her and pressed my lips to hers and pawed her tits. They were very firm b-cups. Her body was naked except for a black choker, some white knee-high bobby socks and her shiny black patent-leather “Mary Jane” shoes. Her white blouse and red plaid miniskirt were laid neatly on the bench and I surmised I had missed her earlier impression of a school girl gone horribly wrong. My hands felt out her whole front side and reached her neatly trimmed pubis. I combed her dark cunt-hair. .. "Bitch" someone whispered from far off in my mind, "filthy fucking slut, you are nothing without me" The voice was oddly familiar. The voice of my lover who was sleeping beside me. I tried to startle myself awake as my soft sensual dream erupted into a nightmare. "Fucking slut, you like when daddy talks to you like that, huh? WHORE!" it was yelled this time. I felt myself try to pull away. The words spewed out at me like they unfurled from the clutches of those hands. They pressed into my.
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