" I'm your wife, and I'm entitled to know," was Martha's instinctive response, asserting some sort of territorial claim.Looking at her, I spoke,"Go an... get cleaned up and dressed. Then we can sit down and maybe we can have a civilized discussion."Martha must have seen my resolve, because without a further word, she did leave and go to 'her' room.When she returned, her hair still damp, pulled back in a pony tail, in a baggy gray sweat-suit, I just sat there not saying anything, content to let. Somewhere half way home I would lay myself down in the middle of the highway and stroke myself into a frenzied orgasm several times before returning home tired and satisfied, thus quenching my perverted lusts for the night.But this night was interrupted by a car approaching very slowly, in a panic I threw on my trench coat and walked on hoping the car would drive on by.As the vehicle approaches it slows down to a stop and an older gentleman who appears to be in his late 40's rolls down his. More

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