Outdoor Sex With My Husband.

From notions I inserted into her petty little thoughts. From me and no other source.How many times did she end a particularly productive writing session with no memory of having pecked out the letters and words and sentences that filled the typewritten pages? In a trance, she was, a dream state so deep that she was completely oblivious to the flying keys striking the paper. My keys. The key I made fly. Her fingers rested on the keyboard, idle, spasming haphazardly to random nerve impulses having nothing in the least to do with the process of creation. Creation? You pathetic creatures have no clue.Oh yes, and then there's the matter of so-called love. Lisa wouldn't have had a love life worth mentioning were it not for me. Most humans couple and breed by random accident, with the expected results -- disappointment and heartbreak, followed by loneliness and more heartbreak. We typewriters, though, we take good care of our humans. We seek out compatible lovers for them, arrange meetings,. I remembered her telling me during her last visit that she was moving house soon and getting an even bigger mortgage, but couldn't remember much else. As always she wore a plain dark formal suit with a white blouse. I've always found the sight of smart dressed women exciting and she was definitely no exception. I couldn't remember her wearing glasses the last time I'd seen her but the small thin framed glasses, if anything, added to her looks, the very dark red moist lipstick, obviously just applied, seemed to be crying out to be kissed. On the way to my office we chatted about her trip down and how many other companies she was to visit before returning up country.Once seated in the office Liz went into her normal company sales pitch which, although very professional, I didn't pay too much attention to until she mentioned a very good lease deal on a 300,000 pound piece of equipment, she gave me some product sheets and crouched down next to me to point out some salient features, I.
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