The Nail Artistry

She simply didn't give us much thought and from now on, the responsibility for communicating would be hers.I didn't sleep very well that night. I tossed and turned and my thoughts were filled with recriminations over my burst of temper on the phone with Jo. I argued with myself about how justified I was to be frustrated and angry. On the other hand, this was my wife of twenty years and I couldn't come to terms with how our relationship had deteriorated to this point. Was it my fault? I didn't think so. Jo had to take some of the responsibility. The argument went on all night. By six the next morning, I was exhausted and I decided I was better off getting up and having a shower and finding something to do with myself. Coffee! I knew that would solve everything.That afternoon I came home from work early. I was tired and I decided to take an afternoon nap. A couple of hours later, around six o'clock, I woke and went downstairs to see if Lindsay was home. She was in the kitchen, had made. Pleeeeeeease stop.”Although the words were coming out of her mouth, she stuck her ass in the air. I had temporarily forgotten about her useless right arm, but realized it when she laid her head all the way down on the bed. Ol’ Fat Boy found his way back, all the way in, immediately. Again, I stopped my prodding and held her hips tight, my dick as deep as it would go. About fifteen seconds later, Liz began to wriggle backwards, trying to make me start moving. Her cunt walls started squeezing, trying to milk my cum. Then she yelled at me, “You sorry son-of-a-bitch! Joe’s gonna kill you for this! You already stopped me from cumming once, fuck me now, and don’t you dare stop, either, you bastard!”When I started moving, slowly again, she swatted at me with her good arm, “Dammit! If you’re going to fuck me, then fuck me hard. Quit your playing around and give it to me.”When her orders turned to pleading, I pumped her pussy like an old dog would, ramming as hard and fast as I had ever.
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