I turned my head toward the source and standing just outside the gazebo was someone strange to me; a rather pretty woman about my age, tall, slim and ...ark haired, reasonably well-formed and not looking like she was all that sorry for disturbing my solitude.Her smile was disarming as she added, "Of course I am. I'm sorry (pronounced sory in the Canadian fashion) but I was just looking for some place to escape the crowd." She raised her hand holding an iPad.Maybe I didn't want to chase her off. “You’re too young to be my wife,” I protested, taking a step back. I’d never felt more alive or sexually charged in my life. “You didn’t say that when I wanked you off that first time.” “Angela. That… that was a mistake. A moment of weakness. I was giving you a lift home and…” An iridescent spark in Angela’s brown eyes stopped me talking. Or perhaps it was the hand slipping between her legs. “I couldn’t stop frigging that night,” she said. “I was too excited to sleep.” As Angela said the. More

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