Scuffed jeans, sandals, a scarf tied around her head, with an apron, whose pockets were filled with solvents, and wipes. She had the ever present dust...mop gripped, in her hand.I heard the doorbell ring. You could have knocked me over with the feather duster, when Zoie entered the room, trailed by my Ex-wife Anita."Darrin someone is here to see you..." Zoie beganAnita interrupted, stepping in front of Zoie. "It's OK Dear. I don't need a housekeeper to announce me to my husband of over a decade.". Can't we be friends? If I let you up, will you stop fighting?"There was no way of telling if she understood my words. Her smell, and the feeling of her light hair, felt delightful on my sweaty chest. I felt aroused, holding her this way, but different, somehow.I wanted to be fucked? How was this? I would want to be the fucker, not the fuckee. She started rubbing her ass into my groin, further inflaming me. The conviction that she was also stimulated, was very strong.Was this the way she. More

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