"Really, Christine! Tu êtes ma petite verrou de foudre²! I desire nothing more than to lay with you, swath your lips and breasts with kisses, then c...over your body with mine and take you, but we both know what the result of that action would be. I want you, Christine. And, I wish to live long enough to make you mine in every way, but only if that is what you truly desire. I love you and if you were willing, I would ask you to be my wife, to bear my children, to spend the rest of your life with. She was still in her netball kit – short blue skirt, pumps and a tight white t-shirt. What a picture.She sat on the edge of the bed and faced the two lads, and me. She knew that as she lent back her lovely boobs pushed against the fabric of her t-shirt and her nipples showed, her slightly parted legs showed her white knickers from beneath the short skirt. She had a post exercise glow and sheen but her eyes were on fire with the thought of what was to come.I saw the lads drop their trousers in. Denise seemed to get shorter and fatter. While not a pig or a blob, she was now one of those typical suburban housewives you see everywhere. Nope take that out of your mind. Denise wasn't a MILF; she was more like a MIPWFWSEDBHHLH. Okay I won't bother trying to tell you how to pronounce that but I'll tell you what it stands for. (Mother I Probably Wouldn't Fuck With Someone Else's Dick But Her Husband Loves Her)Yep, her hooters hung down so far over her already large gut that it all blended. He was like the cat in that poem about a dark cat, sitting in a dark corner, thinking dark thoughts. He was angry. It had been another clash with his wife and he asked himself as he had done on many occasions ‘why’ did he stick with it and live in a toxic relationship and the answer was always the same, ‘the grass wasn’t greener on the other side’. Although he knew a number of women, most associated with the club he belonged to and he got on well with them, they were just associates and.