?For the entirety of the following week, I could think of little else. I couldn’t concentrate at work. As the manager of a national chain restaurant... I needed to be able to concentrate—to always be cheerful to both customers and employees. I needed my happy mood to infect them, and I’d always been great at it—until now. The customers didn’t know the difference so much, but the employees surely did, more than one asking me what was wrong.I couldn’t write a word, couldn’t think straight, and I. He will bend over backwards to make sure of that. He tells me he has been getting reports from all the relevant sources, to put before the jury, so they have all the relevant facts in front of them, and they can make a rational decision. You know that your Dad has confessed to killing your Mum?" I had heard something along these lines, but I wasn't taking it all in at the time, I'm afraid. The shock was still preventing me from thinking too straight." Well, with a confession, it is all a matter. It's dark but we don't fumble for each other's zippers. My dress falls off to my hips, then he has to yank it over my butt.His shorts slip down easily and his polo is a little tricky but he helps me. He pushes me back to the bed and climbs on me. His hand dives into my panties and goes straight to my clit.I begin a hickey on his chest. His fingers slip inside me which makes me bite down into his skin. My nails dig in too as he slowly fucks me."Babe that whimpering has to stop or else someone. The Motherland. Like during the war. Our fathers and mothers fought for the Motherland, not for the Party or Stalin. The new generation scoffs at the concept, I know, but when we had to fight, we fought for something older than the Party and Stalin.” Oleg looked thoughtfully at the balding man with fleshy cheeks and a poker-still expression, between mournful and thoughtful. “If you wish. Of course, that anti-Party line would get you killed then. We kept our mouths shut and did what we were told.
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