Page 3 of Icy Cold Death

The first one caught his eye on that poker weekend when he was having drinks with the boys in the resort gentleman’s club after gambling.

She was vibrant and sexy as sin, and in his life, he had very little sin with his wife.

That was for damn sure.

This busty brunette came right over to him, plopped her ass into his lap, and made his body sing with excitement at her attention.

It was amazing.

So, he kept it going.

He’d paid for a lap dance and ended up with getting head in the backseat of his rental car to go with that ass-shaking moment in a private room.

The woman gave some good head too.

From there, it escalated.

QUICKLY.

He came back again, and he ended up staying in a cheap motel with her, having so much sex that he’d been dehydrated for a week after.

God.

It had been so good.

It had been the pinnacle, or so he thought until he finally met the next lamb at his sexual buffet.

She was spectacular too.

The next one had been a woman who hit on him in a bar. She bought him a drink, sat beside him, and he ended up banging her like a drum in the bathroom stall.

It was that damn fast and furious. There had been little chitchat, and he liked that. No man wanted to cuddle. They wanted sex, and to get off.

Period.

This was a new experience for him since his wife was a lights-off and in the ‘missionary position’ kind of a girl. This wild and crazy hellcat…

Jesus.

The things she did in that bathroom, and let him do to her were out of control.

In fact, she left him thinking about her for weeks after that down-and-dirty sexcapade in the public bathroom of the resort.

So he went back to the scene of that carnal crime, and her workplace, to see her more than that first time.

It was spectacular.

Over.

And.

Over.

Again.

The bottom line was one thing.

He couldn’t help himself.

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