Petersen was still clothed albeit without shoes and socks, with his back to the door, furiously ramming a demanding Susan stood bent over the end of t...e bed. Her only concession had been to pull her jogging bottoms down and her panties to one side. “Fuck!” “He’s!” “Good!” She gasped between his hard and full thrusts. Helen smiled and started slowly stripping, not that it would take long to get out of jogging bottoms, t-shirt and underwear. She wasn’t sure how much time she had overall but it. Her pace was uncharacteristically slow. Watching her I thought of our rambles through the countryside and over diggings. I thought, too, of the picture her swaying haunches must have made behind her and was jealous of the others sitting on the pews. I was even jealous of the fabric sliding across her milk skin and over the mole at the head of the fold of her arse.'By the time she stood beside me I was sure we were making a mistake. None the less, I said 'I do' (weakness of character, I guess). More

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