He could have his fun and not pay.There was one gal that had persuade him, but she didn't have what it took. Her name was Amanda, a rather short plump...redhead who wanted him bad. Buster spent most of his time with what was once called trophy women. He would tease them with talk of marriage but as most men have always been, he really only wanted one thing. He had to finally tell Amanda to get lost, that he wasn't interested in a fat, short troll. Which sent the sensitive green eyed girl crying.. It was hard to power down, but I did manage. The operation we had just finished ran through my mind. I wondered how much the CIA knew. I firmly believed that they had turned the Senator. I had my doubts about his good intentions, but blackmail is a strong motivator to do the right thing.Before I realized it a new day had begun. I did my usual things. In other words I did nothing constructive till almost noon. Still there were only three days till Christmas. Not wanting to get involved in. Fi went and made a cup of tea coming back in we chatted about this and that. After about an hour The au went down, Fi asked me to draw the curtains to keep the heat in, and as I did that she put more logs on the fire. We chatted again for ages and was getting a bit more risqué. Fi got up and walked out of the lounge saying won't be long, make yourself comfy. Fi came back about 10 mins later wearing a dressing gown saying that's better I feel more comfy now, I hope you don't mind. I studied her. Organic and rich, the scents repel and beggar submission to that which is before and behind. Into the Barn, deep inside. To where the light does not reach, the dust is not stirred, the a****ls cannot see. My muscles, tense and rigid, body straight and erect, he leads behind relaxed and jandering. Away from prying eyes though all can see. God and Nature both can see my nakedness, my shame, my shuddering breasts, all the heavier for the exertion. My chest does not rise, breathing is shallow,.
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