"I know, but I *am not* like *you*," she said. "I'm a *slut* and you *are* a *frigid bitch*. Dad told me that's why he left you. He said he was tired ...f having to fight his wife for a simple fuck."I slapped her. Slapped her hard, leaving a red hand print on her pretty face. How *dare* she call me a frigid bitch. She glowered, stood, and left the room without another word. I considered running after her. She was my daughter. I did love her.I heard the doorbell and Jessica's footsteps on the. Sondra knelt beside Lionel and brushed up against him. Through the layers of dirt and glove, their hands met, moved, and touched again. The wind sang in the trees and the breeze pushed her ponytail over one shoulder. She would probably get a bit of a sunburn, having once again failed to apply sunblock, but she didn’t care. Should her friend decide to kiss her, he would taste her sweat, and this was a lot more sexy than titanium dioxide or octyl salicylate. The bed was now about three-quarters. Adrift on what seemed an endless ocean of release, she was suddenly and sharply brought back to earth by the crack of a palm against her upturned buttocks. The slap of skin on skin reverberated for a moment before more hands joined in, striking her with measured force, spanking her for pleasure rather than punishment. Several fingers continued working in and out of her anus, and she cried out in delighted submission as her rear end was thoroughly violated.More fingers returned to her pussy,. He shook off the unusual dream and started his day. He got dressed, and went downstairs. He made himself some toast, then turned on the local news. He didn't recognize the newsreader, she must have been new, but he already hated her. She was an attractive young blonde lady, smartly dressed with her hair tied up in a bun. Under her white blouse, John could see she had very large breasts. "I wish her blouse would pop open, that would show her she's not better than me." He thought to himself..
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