Primed to Kill

It went on for some time, but then he stopped. "Stand up," he said forcefully, pulling out. She was surprised. "Turn now, put your hands on the back of the couch."

"Yes, Officer."

"Bend over."

"Oh yes, Officer. Are you going to frisk me? Are you going to put your weapon in me, Officer?"

He lined up. "How is this for penetration," he said as he rammed his dick into her.

"Oh, that is it, Josh, that's good." It was almost a whisper. He rammed her hard, from behind, until she was looking down over the back of the couch, his shuddering climax weakening his legs.

They rested a minute, with his dick in her, his hands on her back.

They were silent for a bit. They cuddled naked on the sofa. They felt like newlyweds.

Josh thought she was different with the therapy, the drugs. She seemed realer, in tune with the world. She was rounded. She'd gotten upset at the sad ending of a movie--something he'd never seen. She'd shown him a novel, let him read some two hundred pages, and more to come. She'd set a deadline for finishing it. Success seemed to matter to her.

The doctor said she might write that paper on Linda and her treatment, which Linda was considering.

"We need to talk about the future." Sitting naked on the couch, she leaned into him, her hand seeking his softness, kneading it as they talked quietly.

"Do we have one?" she asked. In the past, she'd have said such a thing in a monotone, protecting herself. This time she said it with a hopeful inflection. Could he forgive? Forgetting was out of the question. He had called an attorney. Papers were waiting if he wanted to start the process.

Josh just said, "I got a call from a detective in Branson. He'd like us to look into a case down there."

She looked at his eyes, feeling his relaxed dick with her hand. Sometimes marriage is not perfect. Sometimes it is a risk. No, he thought as he kissed her, it's always a risk, and it's never perfect. She felt him stir.