Back at the dorm I wrote, “I hope you have a great eighteenth birthday!”That didn’t seem to be enough—I had not answered the card she sent me....So I sat down and started writing a letter to her; it was a happy letter. I searched for all the good things that happened since I got back to college and tried to describe them. I talked about my goofy professors and their idiosyncrasies and made jokes about their teaching techniques. When I finished the second page I realized that my depression was. That was the day she met her 2nd Master the "Love of her Life" she never knew her m*ther for she died giving birth and was raised by an alcoholic D*d who was ultra strict. she was intimatly familiar with His belt by the time she was e*ght. one day when she was f**rt**n He caught her masterbating and flew into a drunken rage' taking off His belt He pulled her over his lap. He yelled at her that only bad little g*rls play with their private parts as He brought the belt down on her backside for. She brings her hands round to grab my balls while squeezing the rock-hard shaft. Looking over the other side of the room I can see our reflection in the full-length mirror. My wife’s pert little ass in the air and the back of her head bobbing up and down on my rigid member. I could see her pussy was swollen and wet and those skimpy little knickers couldn’t hide the fact. I reached out over her back, gently pulling the underwear, all the while looking in the mirror opposite. Her plump, open. I dressedquickly, deftly, not wanting to waste much time with logistics. I wanted to openmy gift?wanted to tear into actually. Dressed at last, I closed the armoire andsmiled softly as I saw my hanging goodie flinch at the sound of the heavy wooddoor swinging shut. I walked back to her, feeling my palms sweat inanticipation. I was anxious, I was excited?I was trembling, too. Reaching her,I took a steadying breath. Her bottom was too inviting for her own good,really, it was. And I didn?t see any.
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