She told me that they were once chatting to each other over the fence. He had apparently been gardening in just a pair of pink shorts, flips flops and...some gloves as my wife was hanging the washing out to dry. She told me that she thought he had 'quite the body' and couldn't understand why he wasn't married or at least living with a woman, or another man. She wondered if the pink shorts were an indication as to his sexuality. Again, I was a little unsure as to whether this was sarcasm. I caught. Seeing them like that was making me crave the same treatment.The bitch was half-conscious, propped on their work desk, clearly fucked into delirium, her mascara and cheap red lipstick smeared all over her pale face. Her mumbling had long since stopped making sense. She was stuck repeating “please” over and over again, a glossy faraway look in her eyes. He must have fucked her all day, on and off, until he got her in this state.He did have a helluva stamina reservoir. I should know, I used to. More

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