I must have looked the whore I was.No classy affair, this. No subtle titillation of the senses. No carefully planned adventure. Not even the thrill of...the deliciously forbidden, anymore. No excuses, no sparkling sheen of glamour. I had become a greedy slut. I just had to have my cock. And lots of it.There was no romance left.Ralph and I had just grabbed a rushed dinner in the closest hotel at hand. It was a rendezvous I hastily improvised as soon as my husband left town. It was a. Well, when we got home, Sharon and I both had a beer and kept talking before she excused herself and went upstairs to the bedrooms. I turned on the television and got another beer out of the fridge. Before I was finished with it, Sharon came down the stairs, dressed in one of her ‘fuck me’ outfits. She had on smoky black stockings with black high heeled sandals. Her flimsy flowing skirt came down almost to her knees, and she had on a little black choker which looked charming against the creamy. More

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