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I pointed at the spare lounger and she sat down in front of me, her legs open and sitting there leaning back and looking at me. “I hear you, d’you...know that? In your bedroom at night, with your ‘friends’,” she said with a smile. “My bedroom is right next to yours and we both sleep with the windows open. I have cum with you quite a few times since we moved here.”I was shocked, I really was. I did not know that, and it was all I could do not to blush and melt on the spot. David and Jeans house. I resolved to get it replaced with something nicer at one of the big truck stops near San Antonio or Houston, depending on what I found.As I travelled further East I found the environment getting drier--something that I thought was impossible but there it was. I only spent a few days in San Antonio cleaning up and doing my laundry. I had a guy measure and install carpeting everywhere but the bathroom and kitchen. I bought a nice sized braided rug to go into the living room. I thought that it. It had also introduced me to a world of constant fear and guilt.The fact that for several years, my sex life with my husband Pete had been dominated by fantasies in which I was taken in many ways by many different men didn’t excuse my crime. The fact that Pete had been urging me to take a lover in real life for many months only could only go so far in moderating my feelings of shame and guilt.What was worse, the following Monday when I had gone to Tony’s apartment to tell him it all had to end. “Do you have your license?” he asked the other driver.“Ye…yes….yes…I do.” She stuttered.I handed him my license, not looking up.“You ok?” I heard him ask.I looked up and finally saw him.He couldn’t be more than five eight. He was still taller than my five four frame. He smiled, adjusting his sunglasses. I started down, looking at his shoes, working my way up his creased pants, his gun belt hanging perfectly around his waist. His shirt tucked in and his badge shining in the sun. His dimples were.
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