She held my clothes. I could put them on, but skinny jeans were soooooooooooooooooooo uncomfortable to wear with a big futa-dick. And I could mind-con...rol people, so who cared. I could do what I wanted.“Bye, Eric, I guess we're not married any longer,” Mrs. Solomon called. “You weren't a bad husband.”“But you were a bad wife, weren't you?” I asked, opening the door.“Oh, just wicked. I broke up the Fords, didn't I?” she said, sounding proud.“And what about my dad?” A nervousness entered my. I comforted him and we became inseparable.We took long walks in the woods surrounding our farm. We had oak trees, many conifers, huckleberry patches and a stream that flowed languidly through the pasture. Our favorite retreat was a small clearing covered with pine needles in the midst of a small copse of evergreens. There in this peaceful, fragrant bower we would lounge. I would caress and stroke him -- he loved my attention.We walked along the stream, occasionally catching an unwary crayfish. More

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