And we were silent. She was pulling my legs making her face towards street. She pinched my hands. I was trying to stop her. But she was in a way eroti...c. We reached her home. It was around 7 night. And as soon as she closed the door. She jumped on me, kissing me.. But I felt like our lips our tongues were just fighting.. I could smell her fragrance. She without no time pulled my shirt, actually she tore my shirt buttons.We were both not in control of what we were doing. Though we were not. He just lifted it up and took apicture. He signalled for me to turn around. So I did. He tookanother picture. He mouthed to spread my feet, and when I did, hesnapped several more.I guess he took pity on me and opened the door. I walked inAs soon as he closed the door, he spanked my ass hard. I stumbledforward a few step from it.I stood in the middle of his living room head down, crying and shakingout of fear now more than cold.He walked and sat down on the couch still smiling at me. "I. I think I would have given up had it not been for Sarah – a late-40s, divorced, very attractive and very actively bisexual businesswoman whom I met at a party and who subsequently became my business partner, great personal friend, confidante – but never my lover. (“Laura,” she once said firmly, after admitting over a third glass of wine that she found me attractive, “my experience is that mixing sex with work or business is usually a Really Bad Idea”). It was Sarah who not only saved me from a. About once a week I got to have time with her and it always included getting fucked. Finally, I asked her how many guys she was fucking and she blithely said she didn’t know. It was all she could do to remember who was going to be with her when and sometimes she got it mixed up. Plus, there were the bar one-timers.I finally got to a regular twice a week visit to her pussy, Mostly because I was OK taking an over-nighter after she had another date or two. I was getting used to her pussy being.