There weren't. So, she put the pictures in the envelope and then hid them under the spare tire in the trunk of her car.oOoOn the drive home, Heather's...mind raced again. Her husband was absolutely right; she was the epitome of horniness, but he wouldn't know entirely how or why. The combination of the images, anxiety, fury, and a ruined orgasm, was a decadent recipe that fueled her needs. She was an overflowing pot of boiling water. Now behind the wheel, she was a runaway train with a clear. Settling back against stacked cotton-stuffed pillows, I began to read, – a favorite selection from the cache in one hand, the other lightly rolling and caressing my heavy testes slackly hanging betwixt my thighs. As I progressed into the tale upon the pages, the visions invoked by the shameless descriptions thereupon of actions both experienced and wished for began a stirring in my loins, the beginnings of arousal. My cock, thus far listless and at rest, began to swell and lengthen, increasing. More

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