. forty strokes? Maybe it was fifty. I couldn't take my eyes off his as he worked me. It was facinating to watch his eyes and the thin sheen of sweat...on his upper lip. And then I looked down."Ohhhhhh. What you've DONE to me. My POOR tits!!!"The portions of my tits that he'd jerked upward in my bra were etched with hundreds of tiny red lines. Some were white. Most of the terrible scratch marks were in multiples so the skin of my tits was slightly shredded. Not very deep. Yet."You were. ’ He paced for a second, then plunged in. ‘When Mariam left me, it shook me to the core. I didn’t have a clue she had stopped loving me, and had found someone else. She was good, but then I wasn’t looking. I thought we had a good life. Our kids were grown, we had the house to ourselves. I was looking forward to spending our time doing things we had put on hold for most of our lives. She actually seemed happy. Hell, the night before she sprang Bob on me we made love twice. I now see it was a. More

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