You then "accidentally" drop your pencil over the counter and bend over revealing your amazing ass to me as you do so and makes me start to get a hard...on. I stick my hand down my pants and try to put it under control and under the strap of my boxers so its not obvious. but you see me do it and giggle some more.We both start taking some more notes again and i move my pencil over a little to where i go to grab it but grab your hand by mistake. And I playfully apologize but we both start to get. I was essentially opening the dialogue, saying that it was my favorite position and hoping that she would respond by marking next to her favorite position. In a very non- committal way, we were expressing our preference, without being responsible; in case the other did not like this kind of act. Next evening, when I picked up the book; my hands were shaking, my breathing was uncontrolled and my blood was gushing through the veins and creating some sounds like a storm was approaching. I was. Every face I saw triggered a memory, every hug or pat on the back seemed to bring more pain. It finally hit me. I’d never had a chance to grieve for my family. I’d had to jump straight in, arrange the funerals, deal with the insurance, and try to save the company. Plus, I never had anyone to grieve with. Every one close to me was gone. Kim acted sympathetic, but I could sense she never really gave a rat’s butt about it.Now, twenty months later I sat here, surrounded by families I’d known since. We tried swinging but it was so – so. My husband wanted to share me with another guy and I was a little suspicious and said no….several times. Then we were at a nudist resort in Caribbean I had a it to drink and we smoked a lot of herb and I was around naked black men for the first time in person. Simply said I was turned on by them and they seemed to be attracted to me. A couple of guys in particular paid me a lot of attention – a little ‘innocent’ touching, lots of eye contact, well I was.