Lying on my back, my hand wrapped around my scrotum, I continue rolling the mental images of you. The coffee pot started, you come back in and throw your robe on the chair. You take off your t-shirt and stand in front of me in only panties. You pull down the sheet and look at my hard cock and my hand wrapped around my balls. Without a word, you straddle my legs and look down at me. I start to say something, but you put a finger on my lips, shushing me. Your breasts hang down, beckoning me to hold them, to squeeze them as I’ve done so many times. I never tire of playing with them. Today you have other ideas. Leaning forward, you let the nipple of one tittie rest against the sensitive channel on the underside of my dick. You move up and down, allowing the nipple to drag up and down the length of the sensitive channel. You smile at the grimace on my face as I close my eyes and enjoy the feeling of being masturbated by your titty. You begin slowly swaying back and forth, using both. Now unless you’ve got something else to talk about, I’d suggest you turn around and leave, now.’ ‘You tell that bitch, wherever she is, she better get her ass home.’ ‘Bobby, don’t come back. I’ve got cameras taping the place, and the sheriff is a buddy of mine. You’ve been warned.’ Bobby didn’t like it but he knew I meant business. Deep down he was a coward, the kind that prey on weaker individuals. He left and I knew he wouldn’t be back. It isn’t his style. Callie was shivering with fright and anger. I took her a glass of wine and drew a hot bath. ‘You get in here and relax. I’ll get us some supper and we’ll sort this all out later. Don’t worry. I’ve got your back.’ That last line got a reaction from Callie, a snicker and slight grin. ‘Hey, cowboy, you can have the front too if you play your cards right.’ The fire pit on the back porch was glowing with hot oak coals and I threw a London broil on the grate. A couple of baked potatoes, some fresh baked bread that Callie had brought.
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