Without direction." I just sat there and took this in, the whiskey burning a hole in my belly. She smiled and poured us more Manhattans from a large pitcher she had made."It seems like you just need some discipline, something to motivate you."I said nothing. But the word discipline started to get my prick hard. And that intense stare of hers, like a cat eyeing a mouse. A trapped mouse.Did she know I was into dominant women somehow? How? Now she was rubbing my leg. Cast iron boner. I. He wore a white shirt with blue denims and leather shoes. I wore a red colored sari, with a backless blouse. We both were looking hot.After the dinner we bid good wishes to the married couple and planned to leave. It was a cool evening sky was clear and the stars were easily visible cool breeze was blowing. I could feel it brushing against my waist; we planned to walk through the garden to reach the parking. We were casually talking about the wedding suddenly he put his hand around my waist. ‘Come on, Jennifer.’ She didn’t move. ‘What’s wrong?’ Peter dragged her into the room where she turned her back to stare at the floor, her hair falling over her face. ‘Peter, I believed in you and now…’ She began to sob. ‘What do you mean?’ Peter looked perplexed. His mind was confused. Am I ever going to understand this woman? ‘You said… You promised… Now I find what you had in mind,’ slowly she turned her face, looking miserable with tears streaming down her cheeks. ‘You’re just a man. I. I could see she was a go-getter, fiercely intelligent, and going to be successful. If I had vacancies in my company, I would have head hunted her. Instead, here we were on another course (long booked ahead), planning to meet at the hotel. She was about five-foot-eight, to my six-feet. She was half Scottish, half Swedish, living in the South. The big difference was in our ages, as I am 60. She was slender, with firm breasts about 34C (probably what first caught my eye, if I'm honest!), with.
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