One hour later you rang on my door. I opened, I haven't said a word, neither did you. You had a skirt, a pull-over, some stockings, some bordeaux boot..., exactly as described in a letter that you had just read.You entered the living room, sat down on the sofa, in front of the coffee table with the cognac bottle, your legs slightly parted, I sat down on a chair to your right, you poured yourself a glass of cognac, we were staring at each other. I got up, stood behind you, reached with a hand to. But with gentle pushes from me she had moved along quite nicely. Our sex life before we were married was occasional to say the least and never fully naked, just a few, mostly unsatisfactory fumbles on the back seat of my car."Shower then breakfast I think," I said and I jumped out of bed."Don't you want me to be sluttish this morning?" she pouted from under the bedclothes."Yes, of course," I turned and grinned at her, "but we've got plenty of time, a full ten days." Where are all my clothes?". More

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