Sitting In The Garden
It’s the name of the book I just sold.’ ‘Oh, sorry, honey,’ she said. ‘I thought maybe you were here to look at the old fiddler guy’s house that’s been for sale out on the cove.’ Just a misheard phrase. That’s all it was. But that’s all it took. While we celebrated with double-decadence chocolate desserts, the coincidence of names rolled around in my head. I liked coincidences. I followed the lead of a coincidence whenever I could, and I was bothered by a sense of uncompleted business when we left Beaufort. We drove on to Hilton Head with the old Mustang’s top down under dappled sunlight glinting through the tree branches overhead on the sleepy coastal, but I couldn’t forget the town of Beaufort and its connection to my good fortune. The thought kept surfacing that I usually didn’t turn my back on coincidences. I believed in the power of coincidence, and in fate. I was an unredeemable romantic. I wrote historical Romances after all. Julie and I had walked the town of Beaufort after. I took as manny photos as possible. My wife released some cum out of her mouth while looking seductivly into the masses. It run down her chin and fell to the floor where she sucked it off from there. That was to much of filth, that Jeff and john came nearly at the same time in her ass and fucked their cum deep in her body. They released her whore holes and everybody could see her gaping openings. Cum came out of every hole. And run down to the pee puddle. Hans grabbed her hair again and forced her to slurp the piss and cum puddle seductively off as well. Everybody cheered again. Than bena fell to the ground and lay naked in the toilet room. She was exhausted but very satisfied and happy. I made some more photos of her loosened openings and disappeared with the others. She didnt realize me in all that time. After 15 minutes she stumbled out of the womens toilet. Her top was destroyed as well so she only wear her high heels. An incredible picture of humilation. But she didnt care and.
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