" Exactly." What are you saying, Mad, that Bradford Lane is some kind of pervert?A transvestite?" I don't know what to think. That's why I called you.... Hell, I don't know what to think, either." That's not all. He bought some shoes--again, they were more his sizethan any woman's--and he had a strange, distracted look on his face." Guilt?" It didn't seem likely. Bradford hadn't shown the least bit ofremorse, sorrow, or shame in the wake of his wife's demise. Instead,the son-of-a-bitch had booked. Suddenly her hormones went raging out of control and she wanted my fuckstick in her mouth or cunt, or my tongue on her clit, 24/7. Often when I got home from work, I didn’t even get three steps inside before her nude body jumped me. We fucked up a storm all over the place — in our bed, in the shower, in the kitchen, in the living room, on the balcony and, when we were away from home, in our car. One warm Summer night about three months after Anna gave birth, she and I were lying nude on top of. More

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