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Motorcyclist's WifeChapter 7 free porn video
Larry Johnson sat in the waiting room of Gary's most modern hospital, sipping a bitter cup of plastic-flavored coffee from the vending machine and staring out the window to the bleak hospital gardens outside. Everything was in shades of grey, from the dirty white hospital walls to the bare black tree trunks, with only a few tenaciously clinging brown leaves for contrast; but dismal as the landscape was, it couldn't disturb the motorcycle club manager's jubilant good spirits. Ten minutes before, he'd spoken to the specialist who'd handled Verne's operation, and he'd been given the final assurance that his star stunt rider would be back on the track by next summer in perfect condition!
Everything had worked out to his advantage, Johnson gloated. For awhile there he'd been afraid his luck had run out, but now things were looking up again. Doing without Verne for the winter season wasn't all that serious, for the real money rolled in from May to October.
He was proud, too, of the way he'd obliterated the threat of Verne's wife coercing her husband into dropping out of the circus. Sandi seemed a changed girl, and the way she moaned and pleaded helplessly beneath him every time he plunged his heavy penis into one of her eager orifices made him feel certain that she was too much under his sway to try to oppose his will, even though, of course, she was worried about having her husband risk his life again.
A buxom little nurse bounced into the room to announce the beginning of visiting hours, and Larry amused himself, as he did every time he visited his friend, by staring at her until she broke out in a furious blush and giggled under her breath. If he were interested, he was sure she'd be putty beneath his hands... all females were!
Verne was sitting up in bed, grinning more happily than he had in this last suspenseful month of waiting to know whether he was to be leading a normal life or would be bedridden, a paralyzed old man at the age of twenty-five.
"You talk to the doctor yet?" he asked Larry. "Did he tell ya I'm gonna be okay? Really okay?!"
"Yeah, pal!" Larry said, coming over and clapping his friend on the shoulder. "He sure did! Greatest news I've ever heard! You'll be back on the track wowing them again by next summer!"
Verne's handsome face grew serious, though his eyes still sparkled with joy at his almost miraculous recovery. "That's something I gotta talk to you about, Lar," he began.
"What do you mean?" the manager interrupted, immediately on edge.
"Well, I've been thinking about this bike-riding stuff a lot since I've been flat on my back; and I've been talking about it with Sandi, and we decided that we've pressed our luck long enough. I want out, Lar. Especially for Sandi's sake. She's been so great since this happened - getting that good job and all, and driving all the way in to Gary to see me every night when she's been working all day. I've promised her if I pull through this operation, then I'm getting a job where I can spend more time with her. Maybe in a garage or something, I don't know yet."
"But... but what about the Cycle Circus? I mean, Jesus, man, I've got lots of money sunk in this, and you know it can't go without you! And you've got money in it too!"
"I've decided I just don't care that much about the money, Larry. The most important thing is Sandi and me - our marriage. We want to settle down and have kids as soon as we can save up enough."
"But -"
"Don't try to convince me, man. I've made up my mind for sure. Before they took me into that operating room, I swore to God that I'd never get on a bike again if he'd make me healthy again. Well, he kept his part of the bargain and I'm keeping mine - to him and to Sandi."
Larry's face darkened into a black scowl of frustrated hatred. That fucking bitch! he thought. She never told me she'd talked like that to Verne. She's double-crossed me, and she's gonna be good and sorry! Thank God I've got those pictures I stole from the "Deja-Vu" studio. This'll make Verne think different, all right!
Slowly and deliberately, the dark-haired manager pulled out his wallet and extracted the small packet of negatives he'd taken from Tony Fletcher a couple days after overhearing the photographer's conversation in the bar.
"Before you make a decision," he said in a voice that made Verne know at once that something was very seriously wrong, "I think you'll want to talk to Sandi about these."
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