I'm not meaning to be rude here, but it was the same story I'd heard from her frequently before. She gets drunk, throws herself at him, fucks him sill...y (which doesn't take long), they argue and she accuses him of cheating on her (He does - but I don't like him and she knows I don't, so I'm careful to stay out of that). They fight some more and he tells her to leave. Many of their regular dates end this way too. Of course, the telling was interspersed with a multitude of 'Bastards', 'Assholes'. My tone was so abrupt she drew back as I spoke, "You are not at fault. The bastard hit you. Look at me," she was looking into her lap now, "look me in the eye..." I reached over and gently lifted her face so she was looking at me. "No man has any right to hit a woman. Perhaps it is because of my age, but I have always believed that. A man has no right to hit a woman for any reason. You had every right to tell him to get out. You were protecting yourself! It was not your fault he decided to. I can so tell by the force that he is fucking me with. We continue this hot session until we both cum so hard that our knees are weak."I am about to cum" he says.. With that we both explode with what seemed a gallon of cum each. He tells me not to be to tired he has another surprise for me. We step out of the shower and dry off. As I start to pick up my clothes, he tells me to leave them and come with him. We walk down the hall and to the kitchen to the sliding door. He opens it and I see a. Sandy got into the passenger seat, pointing out the rolled and tucked leather interior, along with a custom dash with an array of racing gauges. Sandy turned on the air and the people surrounding the car could instantly feel the cool air come out of the car. She then turned on the radio tape player, and we all were amazed at the clear sound coming from the truck.They shut the truck off, and Sandy took him around the truck, pointing out the various product decals, saying that each decal.