She directed us well. Working in the yard seemed to defuse all the uncomfortable tension I'd felt in the bedroom. Mr. D and I were able to talk as if nothing had happened. Without the shadow of what we'd just finished hanging over us.
He worked without a shirt, so I stripped mine off to match him. I liked to watch the pull of muscles across his back as he moved. He was beautiful, poetry in motion. Arms strong, shoulders broad and glistening with sweat. I'd never really looked at a
In the next couple of weeks our legs often didn't work. We did a lot of fucking until we couldn't stand...and, oddly a lot of talking. They taught me so much, about sex, relationships, family and love. We didn't always fuck, though more often than not our time together ended that way. It was more than sex—it was sharing. We ate together, I read books they gave me, watched movies and we played.
In an odd way it was a relationship. A summer love affair—with them both.
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