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It’d been several months since he’d last checked his website; fully automated, it rarely needed him at all. And he liked to read Kat. But now he tended to wait, store up her stories, reading masses of them during rare spare moments. But he liked to keep his hand in it, tweaking and maintaining it. But this time he had a good reason.

The one after that and the one after that. He used to check near daily, eager to read her thoughts and words. He’d scrolled down to the last post he’d read more than three months ago, an interview with Lyndsey Wayne, a student from one of the local colleges who’d been outed.

It took him the better part of the afternoon to finish reading everything and the effort had left him weary, worried, and nervous. Today, after talking to Hayato and between his other meetings and jobs, he’d logged on, curious what he’d missed in his wife’s life.

** Continuation of this story ** Peter got out of his car. But he had a mission first. He couldn't go back to her with things the way they, apparently, were. Kat’s stories were always hot. She had the ability to turn him on and make him swell with affectionate, admiring pride.

He needed to head home. But these stories she’d posted—the poems she’d left—were different. After contacting Janie, giving her detailed instructions to handle things for the rest of the day, Peter took his laptop and locked himself in his car. He kept reading until his phone rang—a client whose appointment he’d missed. His heart ached at the crushing disappointment and looming loneliness weighing down each word.

Concern and questions had commandeered her comments. Even her fans—her devoted followers—could see something was wrong. So, after making a quick stop on his way home, Peter grabbed his bag from the car, slinging it over his shoulder, and headed into their house, his almost weightless gift heavy and meaningful hidden inside.

Even though she never said his name, never mentioned him at all, he could read himself between the lines of her prose. A heart-shaped pearl and silver pendant on a thin silver chain. He’d read the next post. The perfect gift to a wife from a husband who’d screwed up. He’d gotten her a gift to make up for it. He patted the bag and headed up the steps to the door.

A pretty, little bauble, shiny with sincerity. Hanging on the door was a photo. His hand hovering over the lock, his keys jingling loosely in his hand, Peter stopped and stared. Kat, glossy and prim in crisp linen and pinstripes on the page, lay on the lawn. He’d thought he had; clearly, he hadn’t. Needed to head toward Kat.

One stiletto pump hung limp from her toe, coyly toying with the idea of falling to the ground. The wide, hazed gaze of her sly, slanted eyes. Her head was cocked to the side as her fingers pressed into the mature nude women keys of her computer. God, he knew that look. Her pink tongue peeked out to slide across smooth, full lips.

Intense and intent, seeking ecstasy as it stretched and reached for release. The hot flush that rushed her cheeks. More pictures of her writing. He gathered each one up, a small stack building in his hand. God, he knew that look. Scattered like breadcrumbs along the floor, photos lay face-up like a brightly colored path leading up the stairs.

He hesitated, his hands unsteady before he gripped the image laying on the top step of the staircase. That look—not all that different from the look she wore during sex, that look that often led to other, even hotter looks—heated his blood and fired his brain. It was Kat half-covered in white lace with green silk—familiar as their first time—draping down her body.

Peter pulled the taped picture from the door, staring intently at her face. Like the ones already in his hand, she wore clothes. See-through lace lingerie and a swath of silk that would always remind him of sex, sure, but all but fully covered. She’d been letting her characters run rampant and ravenous all over her screen, their passions rolling around in her head as they poured and pooled onto her page.

He looked up, seeing the trail of laminated paper lead to his office, one tucked half-under the door, urging him to enter. His mouth—open and dry—gaped as he touched the picture’s smooth finish. They were almost innocent as she peeked coyly up from her book or grinned invitingly over her laptop screen. He stared at the trail. They weren’t dirty pictures.

Stooping low to gather all the pictures up in one swoop, he swept them all toward his office door. Peter smiled like a fool. No, the pictures weren’t dirty. Turning the knob, he wanted—needed—to know what was behind the door. But, for now, urgency rode him. Teasing with just a taste that taunted you to take.

Maybe they’d pour over her photos—over her—together. Or maybe spread out on his desk. Hell, he’d have taken her just standing inside. He’d look at them—really look—later. Peter blinked blankly at the dark quiet filling the room and frowned. They were—like Kat herself was—provocative.

What kind of game was she playing at? A trail that led nowhere? Or maybe sitting in one of the office chairs. He expected to see Kat waiting behind his desk. It was faint, but unusual. He stepped inside the room, a flicker in the large window beckoning.

He didn’t understand. In this one, she looked directly—unabashedly and daringly—at him. But the room was empty. Her black eyes sparked with excited, even foolhardy, challenge. There, taped to his screen, was another picture of Kat. A close-up, he could only see mature ladie porn from the very tops of her breasts up.

Carefully, he peeled the page away from the screen, his eyes focused on the photo. But he could tell that she was on her knees, leaning forward, her breasts pressed tight together creating a sultry, shadowy cleft that drew the eye. But a flicker of motion distracted him. Not asleep as it should be, his computer was open to his security surveillance program.

He stepped closer when he heard a sound—a soft moan purring distantly. That same soft hiss, sounding sweet in the air, seeped into his senses. He looked at the screen. The house was quiet inside and out except for two rooms.

Uncaring, he leaned in close to peer at the screen. His breathing became labored. He walked toward his desk, turning the corner. His office where he watched himself stand stooped over the screen. He knew it intimately well. Framed by the large, thick, oak bedposts, Kat lay on her back, stretched and arched on the soft, fern-colored spread, her long, thin legs parted with her knees bent.

His jaw dropping, he stared wide-eyed and struck. He watched her fist thrust—unmercifully pound—against her pussy, making her writhe and moan while her other hand ground at her clit. And she was fucking herself, there wasn’t another word for it. She looked wild, needy, almost senseless, her head tossing her dark, tangled hair about her and her almond-shaped, heavy-lidded eyes held wide.

The sounds—muffled by the minuscule microphone—were raw and ragged, purring roars of pleasure that even electronically stifled made him hard as hell. Facing the camera, her hands furiously worked between her thighs, a long, thick vibrator whirring as she fucked herself with it.

He sank down into his office chair dumbly. His shoulders were hunched and his face was set in hard, hungry lines. Kat was lying on the bed—their bed—with every toy, from floggers to whips, from paddles to belts, from clamps to cuffs, everything was spread out like a buffet on the bedspread.

Peter’s eyes flicked to the other, shadowed, almost eerily still image, where he saw himself perched, practically leering at the large LCD screen. Not raving, ravaging, half-hanging off a very precarious edge. Christ, he couldn’t go to her like this. Some crazed man with the control of a teenager.

She deserved better than the lustful man he’d been when they first met. The symbol of their marriage, of their lives together. She deserved better from him than some horny beast. He sat back and tried a deep, heaving sigh. Who would love her forever. Peter choked on a breath as the photos fell from his hands, spilling out to scatter at his feet.

But then he heard it, just a brief silence—an almost audible tightening of muscles—before he opened his eyes to see Kat come. Her hips pumped in tantric abandon and her mouth gaped open, heavy, heaving breaths panting from those pretty, parted lips.

Their past, yes, but their present and future too. ——— Kat jumped when the bedroom door smashed open, banging with frightening force against the wall. He wanted to be the man who loved her now. He shut his eyes, his resolve strengthening. Her heart—still pounding from her orgasm—raced even higher as her hand, still wet and clutching the huge, blue, whirring vibrator, clasped her chest.

Peter stood in the doorway, his chest heaving. " Kat lay back on the bed, her hands spreading the toys around her as she pushed them out of her way. He stood, stepped over the spill of pictures, and stalked straight to the bedroom. " He gave an almost harsh sounding scoff while his eyes scanned the bed. He looked like he wanted to devour her.

He almost glared at her with a fierce fire burning behind his alter ego glasses. He dropped his bag on the hardwood floor with a loud thud. "I was looking for something. " Her eyes widened in mock innocence. She bit her bottom lip as he stalked closer and closer. " She set the vibrator aside.

" His eyes continued to flick all over the bed. "You’ve been a busy girl, haven’t you, Kat? He looked enraged, his nostrils flaring and his fists clenched. " She smiled when his eyes flared. "You’ve made quite a mess, Kat. Reaching under a rich, bronze pillow, she pulled out a ruler. She lifted it to him, presenting it to him. "First the photos left all over the house—even one left tacked up to the front door where anyone could have seen it—and now this.

One of those sturdy twelve-inch wooden ones. " "They get their asses spanked. " Kat smiled—grinned really. "Do you know what happens to little girls who don’t put their toys away properly? " Tsking, walked to the bed. " Kat didn’t move, waiting. She wouldn't move until he said it.

"I said, come here, Kat. " Still she stayed put. " He stepped into the room, his body fluid as an animal as he prowled through their dark green, forest-like room. "Katherina," he ordered between gritted teeth. Her eyes widened as she took him in. "Not a sound, Katherina," Peter warned, his hard hand pressing deep into her flesh.

" Her smile widened, warmed, instantly. "Don’t move or speak or do anything, do you understand me? " She scooted down the lush, green bed until maturenude she knelt on the edge between his legs. He gripped her by the waist and swiftly twisted her, flipping her over face-down on the spread with her legs dangling off the edge of the bed as her busty mature older women naked mature women toes dug into the rug’s deep green wool and her ass pushed up.

" He dipped the ruler between her thighs, smacking the sensitive inner skin, urging them to move. " He took the ruler from her, the wood biting into his palm. He stuck her again, a matching blow mirroring the other cheek. READ THE REST HERE sonni_de_soto . " Kat spread her legs, hissing at the sting before her skin heated sweetly.

Kat gasped, choked on a rush of air when the ruler smacked across one cheek in a quick swing. " "Yes, Peter," she said, earning her first swat. "I want to see you get wet for me.

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