But, you know – it didn’t matter. This was the cock I had now. My pleasure tool, and I wanted it in me. I opened my legs and rolled my hips ...ack in my invitational spread. It was a position he had seen many times now but he always looked at it. Always looked at my cunt, reached down and rubbed my lips, pulled them open and poked a finger into me. Today I wanted more. I looked at him and said “More”. He poked a second finger into me and rubbed them in and out. I wanted my. You are doing it to a person who you still love and the guilt is ruining your life." When he was sure I was actually listening and trying to make sense out of what he was saying, he continued."There is a true story of a mother whose son was murdered. She lived in grief for several years until she went to see the man convicted of killing him. After meeting him in jail, she forgave him. The simple act of giving up her hatred allowed her to go on with her life. It didn't make her like him or. More

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