Through all the summer and into the fall, we met up on Friday as the security guards were distracted by shift change. The wool-suits and silk skirts were long gone before we secreted ourselves away into the shed that Andrew affectionately called our Love Shack. We scampered through the little park, careful to avoid detection as we set up the cameras and explored the vast and varied landscape of carnal pleasure.
I enjoyed our time. Andrew did as well. But, when the leaves began to fall and our breath steamed in the cooling air, I knew that time was coming to an end.
“I can’t see why we don’t just pick a warmer location,” Andrew grumbled for about the seven hundredth time that day. This mantra was starting to tap dance on my nerves. “The...
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