Why The Husband Never Let The Wife Get Fucked...
Lying there next to me, and she was looking back, trying to smile, wondering, I guess what was on my mind and if she could really handle what was coming. My mind was spinning, I didn’t know what to do or where to start. I wanted to do it all, all at once, everything. Finally, I gave up, just one thing at a time and I’d start with a kiss. I leaned over and kissed her lips, then her chin, and down to her chest, ran my tongue around a breast and up to the nipple, teased it with my tongue and then. ’ Damien couldn’t hide his irritation which prompted Brian to look up from his desk and ask. ‘What’s wrong?’ ‘I’ll tell you, but don’t yell at me okay?’ Damien asked knowing very well that Brian would do it anyway. ‘Okay. Go on…’ Brian nodded. ‘I called Leigh yesterday to check if she was alright, but she sounded a little nervous so I ended up going to see her and…’ Damien didn’t even finish the sentence. ‘You slept with her? For Christ’s sake! Have you lost your fucking mind?!’ Brian was. Her wicked grin grows larger every inch of my skin that is exposed until my shorts and thong drop into a pile around my ankles, leaving me completely naked and at her mercy. "please don't hurt me too much." I say in a soft, weak voice. Instead of reassurances she simply says "lay on the bed" and points at it. I nod and step out of my shorts as I make my way over to it, laying down on my back and feeling the moistness building between my legs as I watch her walk towards her dresser, shedding her. "All right, that your boobs are anything less than perfect? I mean, what, you don't have any mirrors in your house?"She giggled again."Well, they used to be perkier, you know, like her-her-hers, and Tad used to like to-to-to..."I saw her through the next crying session, having armed myself while I was upstairs with a box of Kleenex."So where was I?" she finally asked after one last honk of the horn."I think you were about to confirm my already low opinion of your husband by telling me that he.
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