Walking slowly toward me, with her white sandals still on, I noticed she had chosen the pink bra and the red panties. 'They look gorgeous on her,' I t...ought to myself. Simply stunning. The panties I had chosen were perfect. They clung to her thighs, though not tightly enough to place pressure upon her crotch, whilst her bum cheeks were covered, and in no way protruding from the pretty red briefs. She threw her head forward, as her long blond hair whisked its way down over her taut torso toward. The glaring sun was just starting to burn off the haze, and she guessed it might be seven o'clock. Then she heard the clang of a hammer striking steel and walked quickly to the blacksmith's shed."Mr. Jamison," she said when she got her breath. "I'm in trouble. I need help."He set aside the hinge he was working on, wiped his hands on his heavy apron and smiled at her, taking a quick breath, never having seen anyone so lovely dressed so poorly."Some men, three men, young men I think, came to my. We have some pretty good sex. Then, as I am about to walk out the door, I ask her the $64,000 question. “Are you sure that this baby is mine?”Well, she goes bats shit insane again. Hell, she ought to. Her plan could completely unravel if there is ANY question about my paternity. Oh, she’s really screaming now. How dare I question her morals. Do I think she’s a slut. I’m just trying to weasel out of my responsibilities ... blah, blah, blah, yadda, yadda, yadda.I’m not really mad. I’m kind of. We parted company and went our separate ways. I was broken hearted, but I did not let her see it, or I tried not to let her see it. She's no dummy, so I'm sure she did know how this had hurt me. She just didn't care.Still, I realized that to try and corral her would never be the answer. If she wasn't happy, she'd never be a good mate and life partner, no matter what my own level of love for her was. It takes two to make a happy marriage, a life together, a partnership. We were but one ....