Through indirect comments (there was no really private place there) we agreed to leave a couple of minutes apart to avoid gossip. It probably worked, ...r at least it didn't make the talk any worse than it would have been.I will not say that either of us had actually decided at that point to try for mad passionate sex, but we both plainly thought that we wanted to be somewhere private, where we could back off or go on without anyone else ever having to know what happened -- or didn't happen.I. We raced to his apartment laughing.Past the door, I jumped on the couch, lifted the dress hem the few inches necessary and spread my legs. He yanked his pants down to his ankles. It was a frenzy on the sofa with shoes on and attire asunder. Spent, it was too late. We’d skipped the condom.Driving home near dawn, re-dressed in work togs, a sober wife, I realized my stupidity.Edward took responsibility. He assured me he would take care of it, if necessary. I knew what that meant but was afraid to. From the experience acquired with his own hand, he knew that sensation foretold imminent release. His body tensed and shook as torrents of semen poured out of him into the condom. The feeling was like nothing his hand, or Sue’s the previous evening, had provided. All parts of Ernest’s body went limp, including the part he most wanted not to do so. ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t do very well by you, but it sure was wonderful for me,’ Ernest gasped in low hoarse voice which displayed new confidence he. My mom opened the door with a sly little smile on her face, “Look who I brought home from school” as she motioned for Sara to walk into the house. I couldn’t hide how confused I was and my mom quickly picked up on that, “Sara, here, is in my fourth period 11 th grade English class. I realized that she looked exactly like the girl you described from last night, that her name was Sara and she was sixteen years old.” I looked impressed and my mom smiled at me. “Your old mom has her Sherlock.
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