tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-94426112011-04-23T03:45:33.929-07:00Sex Slutnoreply@blogger.comBlogger21100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9442611.post-1102069553962727442004-01-25T02:24:00.000-08:002004-12-03T02:25:53.963-08:00

Finally. The first warm day of spring. And, it was a Saturday. I was eager to work the garden Barbara and I had planted and tended together. My work would be a labor of love, preparing the flower beds for planting. The smells of the rich earth, the feel of the dirt in my hands, the warmth of the sun on my back, were healing and reinvigorating. Barbara was thirty-one and I was twenty-three when

Sex Slutnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9442611.post-1102069375802888042004-01-01T02:19:00.000-08:002004-12-03T02:22:55.803-08:00

Their life had been like that of most other couples married five years: two children, a mortgaged house, good friends, some good times, and some bad times. Their fourth anniversary, four days in a seaside cabin, had been a surprise, planned by him to make it special for her. She blessed it with tears of joy and her hot body. She had planned and worked for months to make their fifth anniversary

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