" What are you saying, Mad, that Bradford Lane is some kind of pervert?A transvestite?" I don't know what to think. That's why I called you." Hell, I ...on't know what to think, either." That's not all. He bought some shoes--again, they were more his sizethan any woman's--and he had a strange, distracted look on his face." Guilt?" It didn't seem likely. Bradford hadn't shown the least bit ofremorse, sorrow, or shame in the wake of his wife's demise. Instead,the son-of-a-bitch had booked a trip to. Then more of the same, only harder. Her lips were swollen and very wet. When my fingers were well coated, I pushed two fingers into her as far as they could go. “Ohh,” she moaned as her arms collapsed and her head came to rest on the bed. I pulled out, then pushed in again. “Ohhh,” she moaned, low and throaty.I started a rhythm, going faster and faster, and her moans rose in pitch going through several key changes until she was singing one hell of a high note. She squeezed her ass cheeks. More

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