I held it together for six years. Six years of being yelled at, called every vile name in the book, and being hit. I went to the hospital several times because I had "fallen" or been "clumsy" and gotten black eyes or various bruises. I had a concussion once from one of my "accidents" and even busted an arm. I began to wonder if this was all there was to a relationship and I started suffering from depression. Depression led to alcohol to try to escape and that is when it happened.I was going to the liquor store one day to buy yet another bottle. I was a vodka drinker primarily, but in a pinch I would drink whatever I could get my hands on. I was about to go into the store when I realized that I didn't have enough cash. I did have a credit card, although I preferred not to use it - if hubby found out I had been to the liquor store with the credit card, he'd be pissed! But then I realized that he was going to be pissed at me for something anyhow, so what's the difference! I went in and. Once I’d reached your hip bone, you felt me return. I stretched out a little further. Your stomach’s muscles flexed spasmodically and a shiver went through you when you realised the tips of my fingers weren’t on top, but just below, your little knickers. Slowly I pulled my hand back to me. You remained still and let me continue feeling you under your bikini bottoms. Betraying your smooth skin there, you enjoyed the fact that your body was being simultaneously explored by two men. After Marc had broken the kiss, we took it easier. The two of us still with visible erections and you in between us with your sunglasses placed on top of your head, your trousers open and your bikini well visible. It didn’t take long before I started touching you again. Around the curves of your breasts, down over your waist to your hip and down into your trousers. You moaned lightly in appreciation. I put one finger under the string of your bikini and started to slide. Not towards your stomach but outwards..
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