She was staring at me. I didn't know what to say so I didn't say anything. I started to turn to walk out of the shower when she said, "Not bad for a v...rgin." Still speechless, I gave a slight nod. Then she said, "Now get out of here. I need to take a shower so I won't smell like I just fucked the lawn boy." I guess the pool boy didn't fuck her as hard as I just did. As the summer moved along, I started dabbling in landscape design, using my artistic abilities. Kienan did the same. As our lawn. My mind was still awash with images of my wife, naked on the bed, breasts sweaty and bouncing as she pumped a thick dildo in and out of her red-fringed pussy. I could almost smell her musk on my lips again, even after three years. But the aroma in my nose wasn't her musk. It was cinnamon and vanilla, and the face on the woman in my vision wasn't Janet's, it was Martha's. I left the study, brushed my teeth, and masturbated to a fast, furious and unsatisfying orgasm before going to bed. I'm not. More

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