His voice seemed to change tenor at different times,causing her pussy to respond differently to the types of tones. "What are You doing, Ana?" Weston ...sked. "Nothing, just talking to You," She said. Weston waited a moment. He had called to hear her voice and speak with her.Now she had forgotten to say Sir. What to do. He was quiet. Ana's voice disruptedthe empty space. "Is something wrong?" She said? Ahh, there Ana had done it a second time. Weston was thinking of all sortsof ways to punish. In basketball, I never made a basket during a game. In football, I got knocked on my ass almost every time the ball was snapped. I could swim, across the pool and with a rest I could swim back. Bob was three inches taller than me. My hair thinned and then left on vacation to Mexico or somewhere, never to return. Bob’s wavy, dark hair was as thick and nice on the last day of his life as it was the day we met. Looking at us one would wonder why we were friends. Our wives were just as different.. More

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