I considered all my options including suicide, divorcing Amanda, killing her (joking)or just moving out and giving her some time to think about things..., but all my options were limited by my available cash which was not much, it took both our wages to pay the mortgage on our home and the resulting bills, Amandas job paid quite a bit more than mine so it was likely she had savings whereas I had only a few hundred pounds, I had suggested selling up and us splitting but she seemed to think that all. When we got there we did the formalities of fighting for a room, I was lucky enough to grab a room with just one bed which over looked the large pool in the back garden. It was the only room on the top floor so I had good privacy, which was good for me. I had planned plenty of time looking out over the bikini clad girls, oiled up and soaking in that sun. When we looked around our villa we noticed the holiday company had filled the fridge full of food and more importantly beer, and it took no. I groaned more when he put a leg over his shoulder to be able to bury himself more deeply, as I enjoyed:- Oh dear, oh you fuck me well, don't stop, oh fuck me.After a tasty flounder he told me in his ear that he wanted to fuck the dog, of course that night everything we said to each other was like orders and then I put myself on 4 legs. A few more minutes with him fucking me deliciously from behind (of course, although I was young I had a lot of experience, I learned afterwards that his sex. But after setting the bottle down and making acareful inspection, I saw that it was about a half dozen very tinypillows. Yeah. Fancy red plush pillows about an eighth inch square withgold braid around them and tassels on each corner. I thought to myself,'No fucking way,' and pulled open the proverbial junk drawer that everygood kitchen has and retrieved a magnifying glass.Yep. That's what they were, fancy throw pillows. That of course piqued myinterest further so I turned the bottle over and.