My bag slips from my shoulder as you pull me into your arms. My arms wrapping around your waist as I stand on tippy toes to press my head up to meet y...ur lips, still smiling. “Hi” you respond as my you press your warm mouth to mine. So long apart, but knowing one another’s bodies so well. We press firmly against one another. I feel your hands work down to my round ass, your favorite spot. Gripping, and tugging you pull me even closer. I turn in your arms, with my cheeks pressed against your. She hated fishing season. She loved him, but she hated pixies and fly rods and those fucking feathers that littered her kitchen table all summer so that he could be the all-mighty fisherman. After all, he had patiently explained time after time, REAL fishermen tied their own flies. REAL fisherman knew what the fish really wanted better than any mass-production factory.She hated fish.However, as much as she hated fish, she loved her husband. She'd entertained passing thoughts of illicit summer. More

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