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What was I doing?" Moaning and thrashing, as usual. What do you remember?"She thought about it, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes, and finally shook her head."Nothing new. Falling, flying, scared, horny. Same shit, different night." Mary, this has to stop. Maybe you should see a doctor." I'm seeing Dr. Lundquist tomorrow. Today." I mean a medical doctor. Maybe there's a physical cause." Dr. Lundquist says there isn't."Fuck Dr. Lundquist. "How about what we talked about earlier?" Oh Joe, I don't know ... I'll ask Dr. Lundquist."Great. "Are you horny now?" No, I'm all right," she lied. She slipped out of bed and padded into the bathroom. When she came back he was asleep. She straightened the sheets and climbed back into bed. Her hand drifted automatically down her stomach, under the waistband of her shorts, through the soft thatch of hair to her moist, slippery sex. Listening to her husband's slow, even breathing, she quickly brought herself to a quiet but satisfying climax. Only then. " Would you like to she how wet I am?" Yes, slut, finger yourself. I want to hear you work your pussy juices into a gushy mess."Suzanne spread her legs and began to plunge two fingers into her cunt at a furious rate. Pussy cream was running down the fingers of her hand and ran in rivulets down her thighs. She didn't even hesitate when a cyclist rode by. The poor fucker almost did an end-o trying to watch Suzy finger fuck herself."You may follow me behind those hedges and I will pleasure myself inside of your hot slutty cunt." Oh, yes Sir."I walked ahead of Suzanne as slow and dispassionately as I was able to muster up. She walked behind me, head down and butt naked except for her pumps. When I stepped behind the bushes, I pointed to the ground and commanded, "Present yourself!"Suzanne knelt on the manicured lawn on her hands and knees. Then she opened her legs and pushed her ass high in the air crossed her arms on the grass and laid her head on them. I stood there staring at the juicy.
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The people hated us and all we were trying to do was protect them,” the man said.“They didn’t hate you, they were angry at the system you represented,” Betsy said.“You didn’t see their faces,” the man said.He still woke up with nightmares about that day. The twisted faces with lips drawn up in snarls barely looked human. It angered him that these were the people he was sworn to protect and they had turned on him like that. If he were ever in that situation again, he’d draw his service revolver and fire into the crowd.Betsy said, “Yes, I did.”Stepping back, the man asked, “You were one of the rioters?”“No, I wasn’t,” Betsy answered. “I was at the downtown police station riot watching from a distance. There wasn’t much I could do to help you out until it was over. I organized the folks who got the wounded policemen to the hospital.”Betsy had, in fact, ended the riot a lot earlier than it would have naturally come to a conclusion. From a safe place on a rooftop, she had shouted that.

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