He grinned down at me. ‘Well, it’s not going to get any better if you keep throwing yourself at me, expecting me to catch you.’ ‘That’s all ...art of my plan, kid. If you can catch me, then I’ll know you’re fine,’ I winked at him. ‘When do you leave for spring training?’ I asked him as we started his workout. ‘Next week. Sure you can’t come down there with me, be my personal trainer? You know all the guys would love to see you, Cat.’ It was tempting. I’d have loved to be in Florida for a couple. I could feel my husband's cum spilling inside me, warm, thick, disappointing."That was great, sugar," he moaned, kissing me on the lips."It was," I lied some more; I was becoming good at it. "The best, Sir." My pet name for Marshal. His name sounded like a military rank, so when we were dating I would pretend to be his soldier and call him 'Sir.' It made for some interesting experimentation in the bedroom, and even though five years of marriage had tamed our sex life, I had always found it. More

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