Iweko took her punch card and joined in the dash for the clock. As her station was in the middle of the factory, she joined halfway in the queue. Not ...hat it matters much as all the women were in a rush. Before you know it, Iweko was at the exit of the factory. Before leaving, Iweko went through a quick check to make sure her clothing was in order. She was wearing a plain brown kimono with gloves and socks that covered her hands and feet. Most importantly of course was her black hoodveil.. I began to moan but she spat "Shut up! Don't spoil it!" The music reached a presto and she picked up her speed. It hit prestissimo and she rubbed frantically. I had never played so expressively in my life, and now, as the music was coming to an end, so was the build up in my stimulation .Finally, when the piece ended with a fortissimo, a final hard jerk from those delicate hands caused my sperm to spurt out in sharp, thick gouts, spewing onto the keyboard of her grand piano, and when she moved. The quiet was greater than any he'd ever known, with the heavy snowfall blanketing the sound that the air might carry. It was quiet like this that let him lose himself in his thoughts and memories. Other than living too long, his life had been wonderful as he thought back upon it. Only two wars, hunting that had fed himself and his family, with almost no periods of want. His two children, had each had four children, all of whom had lived to adulthood, and now had children themselves. His. I prayed for understanding. I prayed for a new lease on my crumbling marriage.The cheating had been going on for almost a year. The sex at home had dropped to nothing. The sex away from home had become addicting. The drugs were a great turn on also.The arguments had gone from almost never to almost daily. The name calling had only recently been added to the list of marriage failures. Names like slut, bitch, bastard, wimp, and much worse rang out nightly in the house.Physical violence began that.
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