I sat on the steps again.For a moment, Mr. and Mrs. Hartwell stood out by their vehicles talking. Mrs. Hartwell pointed our way several times. I knew ...hat concerned her. Mr. Hartwell seemed to believe that his daughter could defend herself if necessary. My concerns mirrored Mrs. Hartwell’s concerns. I wasn’t the instigator. Lisa was.Finally, Mr. Hartwell walked his wife around and helped her into her car. Then he went and got in his truck. The two of them backed out of the drive and headed. He was up on his arms now, leaning over and looking every bit the Superman they joked about. Her legs resting on the blankets raised and wrapped around his hips, she placed her hands on his arms and felt the corded muscles. He was pounding her now, without a hint of sentiment about it. Forcing them both hard into the mattress. His strokes still long but powerful now, his balls slapping her each time. Her ankles pressing harder on his buttocks. She worked with him, bucking her hips up to meet. More

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