Creampie For The Wife For Being A Good Girl

I realized I must have sized her up like a man would, or rather the way I thought a man should size up women. If I were a man... But I wasn't gay and I was so sure of that. I certainly wasn't conjuring the attraction I felt for men. Did I want sex with Lisa? No I didn't, but I wanted to spank her.My obsessing had led me to that. Yes, I actually did want to spank her and soon after I realized I wanted it really badly. I snuck glances at her and I probably blushed sometimes when I met her. It was like her body was etched in my mind and I couldn't think about anything else. I couldn't do anything without the thoughts intruding. And despite myself I began planning.It's like your mind goes off on its own course. I didn't mean to but I found myself considering approaches, but pretty much rejecting them all. The best I came up with was to get into talking about men and tell a little lie about what some guy had asked me to do, and see if I could get things to work out like they did for. Tears of defeat or tears of pain he did not know, maybe his head hurt more than his pride after all. No one even looked at him as he went to his tent, why should they? He was the loser; they only had eyes for the victor and few people in history remember a loser. No one spoke to him; no one even noticed him. At that moment, he felt truly alone, tears came again unbidden and he swatted them away angrily as he arrived at his tent. A small square tent of white canvas, his father’s quartered gold and black flag blew softly in the wind outside it. Matthew lifted the flap of his tent and stepped inside, a brazier filled with hot coals lit up his tent and filled it with a welcome warmth. His furnishings were modest like his tent, an iron wrought chest containing all his belongings, upon it a pewter wash bowl. A desk was set in the far corner close to his bed that was a mound of sheepskins and animal furs. Matthew kicked off his boots, the ground sheet felt cool on his toes. He stripped.
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