There was no longer a Dixie Wexler in my life. No one lurking, lurking, in my subconscious.Okay, I had to admit that the average Kansas City gal proba...ly didn’t feel relief that no one was out there scheming to kill her. Hmm ... could this be ... like normal?Excrementum equorum.Back in my outlaw days, back when I was swamping around in that Macklin pharmaceutical morass, I’d had an inkling of a Greta Gunther idea. A glimmer. That bitch had sent Dixie Wexler to kill me. It didn’t work out, but. I planned on making an even larger investment than that if I could.In September, I started college and Jack started his senior year in high school. College work was a lot tougher than high school. Not only was I treading on what was for me virgin territory, there was also the fact that no one was looking over your shoulder telling you to go to class or asking if your homework was done. The fact that I had been a good student and had developed good study habits made it a lot easier. I had. I often did go hiking in the woods on the back of the farm, so my backpack looked perfectly normal. I had all my ropes in my backpack, cut and prepared. I retrieved my frozen release mechanisms from the freezer in the barn. I also had two flashlights, my key to the escape grate, and a copy I had made of my dad’s key because it didn’t have the cave name and “DO NOT COPY” imprinted on it. When you go into a cave, take two of everything in case something goes wrong. With two of everything from. So much of her boobs were left uncovered. Her cleavage was looking simply killing. She was making all sexy sounds. She kept sighing in excitement.Then I unhooked her blouse dhire dhire one by one with soft gentle touch. I kissed her boobs under her black lacy black bra again. I rubbed my mouth on her fleshy boobs. She was just moaning. I slowly pulled down her petticoat. She was left in her bra and panty. She unbuttoned my shirt with her soft fingures. she saw my hairy wide chest she touched my.
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