I didn’t worry that I was being too loud or obnoxious or crass or breaking the rules – I was already doing all of it! I was having a blast for about 2 hours a day – and that seemed to be enough to keep me going the other 22. I lived for 10 pm so I could write to him and he was all mine. I was in a fog – of happiness, lust, excitement, laughter, and kisses. A fog of kisses – best fog ever – I couldn’t even imagine connecting like that before that day on the bridge and once it happened I did not want it to stop. I knew I liked him as a person – even when he was an ass I liked his assiness – but his lips took me where I did not want to go — love. I was sure I could control my feelings. He is the ‘romantic, in love with love, I want my heart broken’ one. He wanted to feel alive – and I am confident he did – but I was sure I wouldn’t fall hard. I had too much to lose and already loved my husband. Then we connected – over and over again – with our lips. That was more intimate than. He gasped aloud through the silence of the crumbling barn as he felt the tight hot walls of her contracting pussy abruptly slip over and enclose the lust swollen head of his rock-hard shaft."Ahhhhhhh" Joan moaned, not from pain, for there was none. She was wet and open and eagerly expecting, and he slid into her easily from the warm moist secretions that had flowed from her shamelessly aroused vagina a moment ago. Now, though, she moaned from the sudden and degrading realization that she was hopelessly trapped in Farmer Treakle's barn, with the cruel hands of the two naked boys around her and the rampaging young cock of a third skewering into her from behind. And worse, she was no longer merely bowing to inevitable rape, but was obscenely wallowing in abandoned pleasure to her subjugation and the debasing ravishment of her body. She had lost her battle against the lewd sensations, and rising flames of desire were engulfing every inch of her naked flesh. Even the agonizing thought of.
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