‘Catherine!’ boomed a voice, it was Mike Stafford and he was wearing that fucking suit. ‘Cathy please, Mike,’ ‘Sorry Catherine, but Brian…...�� ‘Mr Stafford,’ she said, ‘As I said on Monday, Brian is dead, I like people to call me Cathy. You can call me Catherine if you wish MISTER Stafford.’ ‘Oh,’ he spluttered, ‘Cathy, yes right,’ he tried to chuckle, ‘That might take a bit of getting used to. Right,’ he rubbed a hand through the sweat on his forehead, rubbing that hand on his trousers, then with. She blamed me. She blamed me for everything. She took out everything on me, all her frustration, like I was just a punching bag, like... she never loved me. I heard, they told me you were scared to come, but you did it to protect your children... that you were willing to let them hurt you, to protect your children, I... I couldn't... I... please... p... kkshh..." Tears streaming down his face, he bowed his head and let his shoulders slump, looking more pitiful and defeated than should be. She always used to wear sarees ( I thought they were conservative at first)…I could see her cleavage……..this happened for almost 4 months and we used to smile at each other…..One day she called me when. I was going for a jog and we talked for an hour( I forgot to go for a jog)….she then invited me for lunch later ….I went for lunch at 2 …..she was alone …I asked about uncle she told he had gone for work….and her son had gone to school….so she asked a lot of personal questions at lunch….and she. Even on our honeymoon he had me pretend to be sl**ping and call room service up and order something just to get it delivered to our room. It started with me nude with a sheet covering everything except casually exposing my lower body, like a leg and part of my naked ass. Brad really got a trill watching the young guys they sent to our room as they tried to get an eyeful with him noticing. And by the pool he would have me undo the straps to my top and open it to the point that if you .
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