Letting the water run over me and closing my eyes thinking of that hot hunk of a man. A real man as my father would say, doing real men's work. Gettin... his hands dirty, not poncing about in an office like me. Soaping my cock as I lean against the tiles, dreaming of him. Working up to a frenzied orgasm with his face and body flashing through my mind.Have to clean up the shower again before my wife gets home, on more daily job added to my list. I wonder how long their job will last, how long I. Jeff was her old roommate. "Not since graduation," she said. Was she lying? I didn't think so. The next Saturday she greeted me at the door. Naked. With her pussy shaved bald. This was 1977, and you didn't see that, not even in magazines. We had joked about it. I'd told her she would look cute like that. She'd said I was a dirty old man, because her chest was flat. It wasn't, but close. "Do you like it?" she asked, giving herself a feel. Even just standing there it was apparent she'd just had. We left the bar and went to a motel, he was in his car and we were in ours, but he came to our suite, and he was still watching my husband grabbing me in the garage, lifting my skirt up so he could see my butt and my panties tucked in. I put my husband's cock out and kissed it, then I took it and pulled it out for the fit, and our friend watching everything and accompanying us at a certain distance masturbating. I took off my blouse and skirt, and paraded in very small panties for him to admire. Now the problem was that my whispered speech made absolutely no sense to my own ears. Who knows what I was really saying. Was I talking nonsense and hearing it correct, or I was I speaking lucid and my brain was interpreting it as gibberish? For that matter I could not understand a word that Tammy was saying, if by a miracle that was her I had actually reached at all.I think I then had another long blackout for when I revived, the phone was still powered on, but no one was there. I could see.