She was ready to hang up her spurs.

The man who’d promised to spank her managed three swats and then started to cry. Another one talked deliciously dirty on the phone, but when they met, he only wanted her to pee on him. Her favorite sadist was too depressed to answer her emails. The postman found her sitting on the porch swing, crying softly. “Can’t be all that bad, pretty lady.”

She looked up at him, blue eyes glittering. “No one wants me, at least not the way I need to be wanted.”

He looked her up and down, a smile forming as he took in her heavy breasts and generous curves.

“Name’s Richard,” he said, taking her by the hand and leading her into the house, “but you can call me Sir.”

© 2012 Nan Andrews. All rights reserved. Content may not be copied or used in whole or part without written permission from the author.