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Yeah, I'm going to try. I love him, and, yes, I'll try. And, it is more fun in the bedroom.So, the first Saturday in August, we got in the loaded car and headed out to the beach about two hundred and eighty miles southeast of home.Since our big discussion about a month ago, Roy got a few concessions out of me.I wouldn't wear a bra the whole week, I'd get at least half my butt tanned and that I have to concentrate on the fact that I am a desirable woman to my husband and to a great many other men as well and then act in a manner that bolsters that belief. A tall order. But I promised.The night before, we had picked out what I would wear on the trip down. Well, Roy picked out what I would wear on the trip down. It had already been decided that bras were out, so we set aside a nice pair of hiphugger panties, a blouse, and a short skirt. I just knew he would want the skirt. It was the shortest one I owned, one I almost never wore.So, we were off and up onto the highway when my dear. Naturally, living with two -- no, now it was three -- of these fiendish felines led to a state of continual war. They had learned the hard way to stay out of his reach, off his things, and to watch out for thrown items; or at least during those times when Susan wasn't around. She objected to his using them for target practice.They retaliated as best they could, clawing his clothes, tearing up his magazines and papers, and coughing up hairballs in his bureau drawers, but he was bigger and had better methods of enforcing his will. Emptying the water dish and not refilling it till Susan was due home was his favorite revenge. Dumping glasses of water on them when they were sleeping was his second favorite tactic. Locking Toby in a small cabinet for the day was another. Nothing, however, that left evidence."Damn cat," John muttered as he poured the coffee and fixed a quick breakfast. Next time Bunny came close he was going to get smacked silly.It wasn't until John started looking for the.
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