We got along so well and that was the only thing we ever fought over. He would get so angry if a guy even looked at me.Ava continued, "After one party... I was so angry at him, I went out and bought a pair of men's flannel pajamas. I wore them to bed for a week. If he wanted to treat me like that, then he wasn't going to see or feel my body."The next time we were going to a party, I was laying out the dress I was going to wear, when for some reason, I took out the flannel pajamas and placed them. I still remembered as a kid being taken by my father to meet a very elderly man who had, some sixty years earlier, been a famous baseball player from my father’s old hometown back in Illinois. Even back then, I was enough of a fan to be impressed by the old guy’s history, and I had been eager to talk to him. The old guy was nice to me and had patiently answered my (probably dumb) questions, and he’d given me a few trinkets associated with his long-ago baseball career -- including an autographed. His strong fingers brought her right to the edge — and then he teasingly stopped before kissing her. She was light-headed and faint, the hunger between her legs ravenous, her ripe pussy swollen from the spanking delivered with his hands and hard cock. "Not yet, sweet baby," he moaned against her nipple. Inside her, his fingers were slick from juices seeping over his hands.Earlier, he’d bound her hands and feet, enjoying the way her eyes filled with wonder and lust and a little bother. He loved. A couple of minutes after that she started to talk. She’d had a nightmare, in which she kept reliving the assault. Her father had heard her and had told her angrily to snap out of it, that it was all over. She went on to say that he had been full of anger since her attack and although he never actually said it was her own fault he had implied a few times that she shouldered at least some of the blame. He had never been a tactile man and whilst she didn’t doubt his love, she needed him to show.
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We found the memory of that alone could sometimes act as an aphrodisiac for us. By March of 1970 Sarah was very sick as her poor health reared it’s
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