“You really want it, don’t you?” “Yes,” she replied. “Please fuck me.” “Are you my slut Jan?” I asked her, “and will you do anythi...g I ask?” “Yes, yes I am,” she said. “Then say it Jan, what are you?” “I’m your toy, I’m your toy, to do with as you see fit. Now please fuck me.” I flicked my cock harder and she sounded damp and moist. “Jan, I can buy a toy but I don’t want one, do I? I want a slut. I want you. Now, what are you?” I flicked my cock again and just nudged her opening. “I… I…. I’m. “Please, you two, get a room,” said my son, who always looked clearly uncomfortable when Traci and I showed any kind of physical closeness. Ah, for the innocence of being a 9-year-old.The same age as me at 35, Traci was a 5-foot-5 bundle of beauty and intelligence. She had long blonde hair, piercing blue eyes, and despite having birthed two children, was probably still 36-24-36. She was a regular at our gym and rode her bicycle 20 to 30 miles per week. I was one incredibly lucky man.And then. More

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