His father had been in the Merchant Navy and had brought home all sorts of things from around the world that Richard had been loath to get rid of when...he died. Among those things was a horse-hair fly whisk. It would make a super swishing sound but hardly do more than tickle her buttocks.Richard spent much of Tuesday morning rootling round in the attic. Inevitably he found plenty of digressions: photographs, letters, diaries and even an exercise book with a short story by his mother. He also. .. WEEKS PASSED, then months. I went to work and performed like a zombie. I hadn't seen either Nick, or Clara, in this interval. I came home and lived like a zombie, dead inside, but having to exist. And with the images of them continually playing in my head, over and over, and over... I was becoming obsessed with the images, and driven to distraction. I couldn't go ten minutes without the two of them popping into my head, fucking and sucking each other with total, animalistic abandonment. My. I looked down and noticed that I was half under the covers of his bed. Strangely enough, I had no recollection of pulling them over myself. I hadn't even time to begin laughing at myself before Jack's voice cut off my thoughts. “You're staying tonight, right?” Again my stomach lurched, though I tried to give nothing away in my face. “I mean, for old time's sake.” He qualified. This only slightly lessened the excitement going through me at the thought of him wanting me there. “I guess I can do. If pushed, she would blushingly agree that she was a MILF, still a catch despite some distance from her twenties.But despite being a catch, she was achingly lonely these days. Which sounds weird given that she was married with children, but somehow life had inched its way between her and John. While they loved each other and even seemed to like each other, something was broken. There wasn’t much intimacy left. She didn’t know why, but he didn’t seem to want sex anymore. Which was a problem,.
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