Her drunk husband, driving at high speed with a sheepish smile on his face; his free hand slipping under her skirt, squeezing, rubbing, making her fee... like a whore; the fear on his face when he lost control of the car; the rain of broken glass; the enormity of the impact that crushed her body. “Mrs. Tandy, are you ok?” John said and guided the straw to her lips. “I am much better now.” He was crouching beside her bed, watching her sip at her water. His eyes lingered guiltily on. My thighs were quivering uncontrollably, you would think the machine was switched on and causing it, but it was my own reaction, my muscles adjusting to accommodate the massive cock like protuberance, now moulded inside my pussy, its every square centimetre covered and held in situ by my inner pussy flesh.He moved away from me as I huddled forward and leant on the back of the armchair, he gripped the controller like a man about to pull the lever down on an electric chair condemned man, he was. More

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