Slave wife

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Max didn't want to glance at the naked blonde on the wall calendar as he worked on the Venetian blind. He didn't need the sight of her thrusting tits. He didn't need the sleek line of her thighs, the hint of muff that betrayed she was a bleached blonde. He didn't need any of those things. His powerful hands threaded the thin cord through the pulleys of the blind.

He had a hard-on without looking at the calendar hanging over his workbench.

He had the feeling he had had the erection forever. It was there when he woke up in the morning and with him when he went to bed at night. It was like a lead weight strapped to his gut, dragging at him.

Reaching up to the peg board, his eyes fucking past the calendar girl, Max grabbed the hatchet.

With, a crash, he lopped off the extra cord and imbedded the sharp blade in the bench top. Slipping the loose ends through the knobs, he tied figure-eight knots.

His mind was on Kim. His cock throbbed harder at the thought of her. He didn't have to look at a photograph to picture the lush round softness of her tits, the line of her thighs, the gentle curve of her tummy, the thrust of her ass.

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