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I dont think she noticed I was butt naked next to her. I slowly handed her the big blue jugg. She smiled as she poured a small amount into the top of the washing machine. Can you get down some fabric softener? she said. I handed her the fabric softener next. She poured some into a small cap. She then handed it back to me. Do you have some laundry to do also? She said. I smiled. Just a load. I can wait. I said. Buck!! Youre naked. Wheres your clothes? she said. Oops! I did not have anything to wear this morning. I thought I was alone in the house. I said. I slowly pulled my hard cock out of laundry basket. The tip was glistening with pre-cum. I saw Mrs. Cotton eyes get bigger. She was staring at my fully erect cock. I though I made my self clear. We cant have sex. Im still married. I love my husband. What we did on the love seat. It was a one time thing. Please! Respect me… said Mrs. Cotton. Im sorry. Its just&hellip,..I cant stop thinking about you. I woke up this morning. Hard as. * * * Jenna hand paused before knocking on Kate’s door. She had really, really, needed to use the toilet. She had fought her urges all day, not wanting to face the humiliation of having to ask another human being permission to perform a simple biological function, but the discomfort was approaching unbearable levels. It had been a weird day after a sleepless night, as she sat in her classes the plug felt funny. It didn’t hurt or anything, but she felt uncomfortably full, and she had to position herself carefully as she sat so as not to put too much pressure on the plug. Her one attempt at removing it had not gone well. The second it came out her stomach heaved, and she felt an intense nausea pass through her, with cramps so severe they made her monthlies seem like a hiccough. Curled up in a fetal position on the floor of her room she grasped blindly for the plug and replaced it to stop the terrible sensations. Disobedience equaled discomfort seemed to be the lesson of the day. ‘Hi.
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‘Ah,’ she said. ‘That might be worth a high draft pick.’ She punched me in the shoulder. ‘Enough about me. How did you get into doing this?’ I tried to inquire. ‘I grew up in Canada and with three brothers who played hockey, I trained with them as their goalie,’ she told me. ‘After a while, I got good at it and liked it so much that I, well, I just stuck with it.’ There was a brief moment of awkward silence. ‘So, you caught one of my shots, so can I catch your name?’ I asked. ‘Regina,’ she said sweetly. ‘What’s yours?’ ‘Alex. Alex London,’ I replied, trying to slip into my charming persona. Nodding my head, I again found a lull in the conversation. Any gal that loves hockey is okay in my book, I thought to myself. A few seconds later, a puck flew from the other side of the rink. The speeding black rubber just barely missed my left eyebrow and crashed into the boards with a loud bang behind the net. Regina and I looked in the direction the shot came from. I figured it must have been.

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