One cannot be creative when drowning. Colleagues noticed and began to ask questions. A damaged Triumph sat waiting for attention in the rented garage ...I used as a workshop. I just didn't care about anything, not even myself.June somehow passed into July, unnoticed. The arm cast was removed to reveal pale white skin and scars from scratching too harshly. The deep scrapes on my right leg healed into white patches. I didn't care. How could one young girl bring such desolation and disruption to my. You don’t own me, not on any level,” I said. I wasn’t being nice.“Look, John, I’m sorry. My bad. Okay?” she said. She picked up my crutch and handed it back to me. I took it from her and used it to try and get up and was finally successful in that effort.I turned back to our table and retook my seat.“I’m sorry,” she said again.“What do you want Victoria. You dumped me for money. You’re happy. You’ve got the children, one of which used to be mine too. What else do you want from me. Neither. 30 following morning but I had not planned on going out that evening. I drove down the row of terraced houses. The houses were fairly large, probably three-bedroom, and then I saw the sign I was looking for. In a window was small card saying, B & B.I parked the car and walked to the front door pushed the bell, and waited. There was a movement behind the door and the door opened, and a young lad about 11 years old appeared. I said, "I see the sign the window, says you have accommodation, is. Victor did not answer; but he smiled with an evil grin in his face…I stepped into the shower, my mind full of visions of a huge black man between my thighs using me, while my cucky hubby watched.My hands wandered between my legs as I lathered up and thought about what I was about to do, but I decided not to let myself climax. I finished showering and walked naked into the bedroom, some candles lit the room and the selected clothes lay on the bed. I dressed slowly as I heard voices downstairs…I.