Yvonne moaned at me over her shoulder. I caught her eyes and her body was poised for me to take. "Yes, darling. Take me. Love me. Fuck me." I didn't have anything to hold me back anymore. Once more, she wanted it. Who was I to keep her from what she wanted?I pulled and pushed at the same time. Pulling her hips and pushing into her, I could feel the way my length slid along her walls, pushed against her end and how her body agreed and gave in to my will. It was disturbing and wondrous at the same time, and as before the part of me that screamed and yelled to be careful was pushed to the background. My need and hers intermingled to fuel the thrusting that picked up in pace and depth. Yvonne called out to me and I pulled us together with thunderous slaps of her rounded flesh against my more chiseled pelvis. The faster and harder I drove into her the more I felt her cervix pause for my touch. It waited for me to actually push it like a spring loaded button that would retain its position. Basil should be home in the next half-hour or so, and we’ll get acquainted.”Basil Alcott and James Weatherby were remarkably similar in appearance, both over six feet, solidly built, with broad shoulders. Emily and Margaret watched as the two men felt each other out. The first point of contact was their shared liking for Scotch Whisky; a minor disagreement over the best distilleries was a trivial matter. They’d both served briefly, on a short-service commission, in the military; Basil in logistics and James in Naval Intelligence. Basil had met Emily while deployed to Singapore. By the time they were all sitting at the dining-table, the men might have known each other for years. Emily and Margaret merely smiled at each other and chatted about gardening.The men’s mutual respect was cemented by a hard-fought evening of Bridge, in which Margaret and James came out marginally ahead. At bed-time, Basil actually told James, “I’m sorry I have a prior commitment for tomorrow, but I’ll be here.
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