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There were some preparations to be made before he could write. Alone in the building, in the late evening right after the council meeting, he checked ...he front page, the only page still laid out on the makeup tables. From the agenda, it hadn't looked like it was going to be much of a council meeting, and he thought he'd been generous to leave fourteen inches for it. The hole left for the council story didn't lead the page, either, but he could slide the county commission story he'd planned on. He reached over for the tube of lube and squeezed some on his right hand. He dropped the tube and, his left hand running slowly up and down the length of his cock, place his right hand in my crack.I felt his finger find me. My hole twitched in anticipation and maybe a little fear.A quick silky probe of a digit and I felt the lube oil me.He shuffled forward and I felt his cock at my door. He pushed gently.I accepted his offering.I uttered a sound, not quite a gasp nor yet a moan as he slowly,. I thought about calling my husband, but I was too nervous and upset to speak to him. I decided I’d wait until he got home, took a couple of pills to calm myself, and laid down on the couch, hoping to nap but knowing the likelihood was slim to none. When Tom hadn’t arrived by seven o’clock, and the dinner I’d prepared was getting cold, I tried to call him. The phone went right to voicemail. Eight rolled by, and I was getting pissed. I’d had one of the most frightening and disturbing days of my. "Holy shit, there you are," I say to Ethan and he laughs too. "You're funny when you’re drunk," he says, grabbing the pipe. “I’m not drunk, you’re drunk. Heyyy, we should smoke out of the bong." I'm smiling at Ethan with squinted eyes, much too happy about my buzz to be disturbed about trivial things like his large warm hands and his nice white teeth... and... oh hey, Kyle's sitting here. Ethan laughs at my expression and stands to get the bong. I lean into Kyle and take his hand. "You're.
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