*"Darlin'?" he called as he walked through the bar, leaving the package on the counter and heading up the stairs. He paused for a moment when he saw h...s wife ahead of him, on the landing, dramatically lit by a window of low, eastern sun. It was 1935, eleven years since he'd married the eighteen-year-old Ava. As far as he was concerned, she looked better than ever. Tight hips, long legs and full breasts in a newfangled French brassiere. Her black hair was up in a stylish bun. She kept it that. Her conversation was filled with constant suggestive remarks and conveyed an open invitation to enjoy her pleasures. Having cocks on call made Carrie envious of her and she daydreamed about it as she read. I could get fucked for breakfast, lunch, dinner and dessert, she thought. And several times in between. Carrie knew that such an idyllic life was very much a dream but she still longed for something very similar. She would be content spending most of her time masturbating and fucking just as. More

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