Our fights. They were nothing, now. A week ago he’d been screaming at me, throwing shit, punching holes in our bedroom door. He’d called me a do-g...oding cunt and nearly belted me and then stormed out. And I swore we were done. Eight years on, and my husband had changed. He’d become selfish and violent and crude, the kind of man I counseled women about at the Crisis Center, the kind of man that women needed to fear and escape. And I swore I’d never take him back. But he came back. Contrite,. As i passed by the toilets I found myself in need of some relief and walked innocently in, standing at a urinal I undid my work trousers and allowed them to drop enough for me to take out of my white cotton briefs my cock, as I relieved myself a man in his late fifties came in and standing next to me also took out his own cock which I couldnt help but notice was erect, i have to admit it was a stunning piece of meat at least ten inches long and as thick as a babies arm, i felt him looking at me. More

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