"Bret took a number of photos with Maria assuming different positions and facial expressions. When he had a sufficient number of photos, he told Maria... she could change back to what she was wearing and do the cleaning.Maria wondered what was going on, but she didn't say anything.When she was done cleaning and getting ready to leave, Bret asked her to have a seat. She did and when he looked at her, he noticed that she was wearing a short skirt and her legs were slightly spread. One glance told. Then you found out that he only wanted her, not you, and he needed to be around her in order to get her. To do that, he needed to bring you into his world until he had her in his clutches, then he could dump you and have her all to himself. No need to say yes or no; it's a story as old as time, and just as painful to watch and bear as watching a loved one waste away to nothing."We sat at that bar, two stools apart in space, and yet two souls in agony over what life had thrown our way. We were. Have you been there long,’ she asked. ‘Not long but long enough to get a woody in watching you,’ he said boldly hoping for a favorable response. ‘Do you get erections often,’ she asked when he told her he did. ‘What do you do when you get them,’ she asked. He smiled without answering. ‘You don’t masturbate do you,’ she questioned him sounding condescending, smiling. She waited for the day he’d try having sex with her, wondering why he hadn’t already. Her mother told her some males were shy. “I’m Fucking Coming… I’m.... I’m Coming... I’m Coming,” she gasped, the mantra repeating in a chorus of piercing cries, moans and groans joining the momentum of give and take, muscle contractions vibrating before exploding in an ocean of pulsating waves, a violent cascade of ultimate release consuming her body, stealing the breath from her lungs. Fluids of passion spilling in rivers down her thighs, the flaps and folds wet with arousal, the entrance warm and welcoming, two bodies fused in.