“But that’s different.” “Why?” “She’s my wife,” he answered. “And do you like watching her,” I ask. “Of course I do.” “So wh...t’s the difference?” Hearing the question he looked into my eyes, gave the broad smile of a small boy and answered somewhat reluctantly. “It’s a sex game we now play,” he grinned with his eyes closed. “Because while watching her play with herself; I’m instructed to stand by the side, of the bed, and masturbate until shooting my load over her rather petite tits.” “Oh,” I. ) I would drop it on the carpet and you would say ‘You know, it looked good on you, but it looks even better on the floor.’ We would stumble to the bed. Your weight would feel good on top of me, and your mouth would feel so good tasting my collarbone and my nipples and my stomach. My skin would be warm where you kiss me and tingly where I would want you to kiss me. You would reach the waistband of my skirt and I’d whisper to you to take it off. Your tongue would skim the lacy edge of my panties. More

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