She swung one leg over me and ended up sat on top of me, trapping my arms with her knees. I knew that any chance of escape was gone but suddenly I had...no urge to do so. Now both hands were on my boobs, squeezing them, pinching the nipples through the thin blouse. I tried to squirm, but one hand came free and I was slapped across the cheek.“Stop wriggling, you little tart,” she told me and there was something in the tone of her voice that made me do as I was told.She looked into my eyes and held. When we returned from our honeymoon, I began organizing our life. Sally hadn’t mentioned bathing in her litany of assistance required. My assumption is, bathing has never been a priority for her. It is for me, especially for the person I’m sleeping with.Yes, Sally sleeps with me in my bed, and I with her. Her bed now, if hours used defines ownership. She mostly sleeps alone, because it’s twenty four seven sleeping for Sally!In a used furniture shop, found this old, stout, castored, wooden,, . More

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