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.is our motto.Just take it we are about as normal as you get in this suburban house. My husband Dan is a tax lawyer, you know, the guy who saves your ass when the IRS wants to take your first born c***d. I am a fitness trainer; I help people look and feel good. My son Peter is a second year college major in engineering, and out daughter, Mindy, is about to graduate high school.We attend parent conferences, PTA, and yes church. We also attend a monthly swingers get together. Where it's no holds barred, fuck me until I scream event. Dan and I knew what our worlds were like the further we fell in love. We adapted, and grew with it. No, we didn't drag our c***dren into it, it needed to be their lifestyle, not ours. Quite frankly, when the moment did hit with Peter, I was as surprised as anyone to know his feelings, and his desires. Much to my pleasure.It was a Wednesday afternoon in June...I remember it clearly. Dan was busy at the office. It was post tax season, and his clientele usually. Slamming the door, I stomped my way up the stairs and shoved the front door open with so much force that the hinges nearly broke off of it. There she sat, my Tina, idly spinning in one of the desk chairs that I left sitting in the living room. As I walked in, she stood up, quickly speaking, "Look, I'm sorry about this morning, I didn't mean to sound so final about it. I just think-" She never got to finish her sentence, my arms wrapped around her and my mouth crushed itself into hers. To her credit, she resisted a bit at first, but then melted into my embrace, giving in willfully to each movement of my lips on hers.Deftly I swept her feet out from under her, holding her in my arms the way a husband carries his bride. My tongue invaded her mouth and she reluctantly met it with her own, gently playing with it like she used to. Tina's arms wrapped themselves around my neck, a sign that she knew what was happening, and trusted me. Step by step I made our way to the bedroom, Tina actively.
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Because it wasn’t. But, since this was the Brennan pattern, and the Brennan pattern was what a real family looked like, I was glad. I teased him about it later, but I only teased. I never suggested that we stop. Since I wanted to be a family, I put my foot down on some issues. I know that you keep a neat house, Katherine, but you don’t seem to have taught him that.”“I gave up, dear. He did a good wash, really. I let him clean his own room on his own schedule except for every other month. Which was often the only vacuuming he did. He was always better about personal hygiene, dear. Although I remember telling him that simple respect for a date required that he shower and wear clean clothes whenever he sees her. That rule may have been enough. He already showered before Church.”“Well, anyway, he never claimed that vacuuming was an un-Brennan activity. Nor washing dishes, which considering that you had an automatic dishwasher and we didn’t, would have been a valid claim. I think I’ve.

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