‘Oh. I thought I heard you downstairs. Sorry. I’m just going to make breakfast, and then I was thinking we could walk Bernie together. Do you want...toast?’ ‘That’s nice...just give me, uh, a few minutes…’ he said, his head sinking again into his pillow. Charlotte rolled her eyes and left. That’s funny. I could have sworn I heard him talking downstairs, or at least turn the radio on. When she had been putting on her powder blue sundress, she had become slightly distracted by this distant. Was he the hollow man, you might wonder - but I didn't care at the time. "You've got it all wrong. Once again, Mr. Kane, you've jumped before the horse."I pointed out that he had mixed up his idioms, and he replied that I was mixing up his digestive system. "So we're even," I told him. "Now why don't you cut the crap - I think I am repeating myself here - and tell me, please, what this is all about."Maybe it was the 'please' that did it, maybe he was tired of the comic routine he was running. It had been too long.He walked around the car and got in the opposite side. He very gently took my hand and placed it on his lap, where I could feel how hard he was. He asked me to come lay across his lap, which I did without hesitation. It was lucky I was wearing a dress, because he could simply move it to the side and see my entire ass, bare except the thong weaving through my ass crack. His hand went up and made contact with me with a cracking noise, followed by pain. Not extreme pain, but. Then she touched him sending a shock the length of him before asking if that was ok. Of course it was and he murmured his assent. She began to writhe and asked him whether he wanted to fuck her ass. He had to pause to make that desire emphatic, unequivocal at which she exhaled sharply. Unfortunately he could not see her face to know, but he was sure that it was a deep hue. Then she said, “Can I…fuck yours?” This time he wasn’t sure he’d heard her correctly and asked that she repeat it. .
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