The making up always ending up in bed. If only she could of stayed clean. If only she hadn’t played around. But if only’s were no good. They meant...nothing. Slowing up his pace to cool down, he glanced across at John, the sweat rolling down his neck and back, and moving to a walk he asked him in a gasping voice, ‘Thought anymore about seeing if you can get that transfer to the London Branch?’ ‘Yeah, and I’m seriously getting more and more interested in doing it. You still serious about going?’. We arrived around midday and found that the hotel was largely empty for the time of year, although it seems very pleasant. We were greeted on reception by a good looking guy called Anto, a local to the area aged around 25 years old. Anto was a friendly guy who introduced the hotel and showed us to our room; a spacious double with air-conditioning and sizeable balcony – both welcome as the temperature was into the 90s. The hotel room was slightly more expensive than we usually pay however it. “Put your tongue up her ass, you want her so bad, you fucking wife stealer!” she barked at Bev, whose own ass was laid open and vulnerable. With that, the vicious dyke shoved a fat finger up both of Bev’s holes, and rammed them into her as far as they would go. Bev’s shriek was muffled by the young one’s ass squatting down and covering her mouth. “Take that, you fucking bitch, I know you like it rough!” the big woman laughed, throwing her head back in exultation. She jammed Bev’s holes. She spoke. “I’m sorry you saw that. But I’m divorced, and not ready to date again, so I get unfulfilled cravings…” Her voice trailed off.“I understand completely. It’s normal, everyone does it. Guys more than girls, for sure. Let’s pretend that this never happened. It’s already forgotten.”“But it did happen. And I doubt you’ll forget it. I need some guarantee from you that you’ll never, ever speak of this to anyone. Ever. I would die of embarrassment”“Of course, you have my word,” I.
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