Super Son-In-Law

Trent looked at Yvonne sitting at the bar, feeling a surge of joy: Ah! The information was correct, she was indeed here. It had been three years, and she hadnt changed at all.

The bartender said something to Yvonne, and she turned her face to look at Trent. Their eyes met. Trents heart skipped a few beats, but he remained indifferent as he looked at her. They held each others gaze for two seconds.

Yvonne put down her glass and stumbled over to him. She tilted her head, her eyes blurred with intoxication as she looked at Trent. Trent thought she recognized him, but he was wrong.

With a slurred speech, she said, "Handsome, how much do you charge for a night?"

Trents eyebrows furrowed, and his heart ached. Alas! She had forgotten him. As he was lost in thought, she slapped a few banknotes on the table. "Is this enough to spend the night with you?"

Trent glanced at the money on the table and said indifferently, "Its enough."

"Then lets..." Yvonne burped loudly, patting her chest, "lets go."

She turned around, stumbled, and her graceful figure swayed. Trent quickly reached out to hold her waist.

Yvonne leaned her head and fell asleep on his chest.

A helpless smile played on Trents lips.

Trent picked her up and carried her horizontally, feeling her bodys warmth through her thin dress. His heart raced uncontrollably. After three years, she could still easily stir his emotions.

Trent took her home. He placed her on the sofa, where she slept soundly, and his slender fingers gently touched her face.

Yvonne yawned, her eyes drowsy and blurry, mistaking him for someone else. Her soft lips initiated a kiss on his cool lips.

Trent felt like he had been electrified; his lips and tongue reacted before his mind did. He instinctively entwined with her lips and tongue. Three years ago, her lips were the most desirable taste for him. Trent held her tightly, and their lips clung together.

Trents breathing gradually became heavy, and a fire raged within him. He tried to suppress his desire for her with his last thread of rationality and pushed her away.

Yvonne, not in her right mind, thought he was leaving. She quickly hugged his waist, looking up at him with a pleading expression: "Hold me. Please hold me."

Her desperate gaze took away Trents last shred of rationality.

Trent pressed her down on the sofa, panting, unfastening his belt buckle, lifting her skirt, and leaning down.

He looked in surprise at Yvonne beneath him; after three years, she was still pure and untarnished.

Trent was already beyond retreat. He slowed his eager desire and moved with tenderness.

"Mark, Mark," Yvonne murmured with her eyes closed. Trent felt a pang in his heart and became angry; she was calling another mans name in his bed. His movements suddenly quickened.

Unconscious Yvonne felt herself swept into a whirlpool of pleasure, and she could only follow his rhythm, reaching the peak together with him.

Trent gently traced the contours of her face with his fingertips. "Sigh," he sighed with self-reproach; he shouldnt have been impulsive. He was fortunate to be her first man.

The pale yellow morning light shone into the room, and Yvonnes sleepy eyes saw a blurry handsome face. She suddenly widened her eyes.

"Ah." She grabbed something nearby and threw it at Trent, "You scoundrel, bastard, how did you get into my bed?"