I didn't know if i should tell him at first, but couldn't deny it. when i talked to him, i would touch myself. getting wet, i'd ask him personal quest...ons. did he touch himself last night? yes. (getting more excited) did he fuck his wife that morning? yes. (more wet) i could feel myself breathing harder thinking about him with her. touching her. fucking her. this was insane!! but i wanted to know more.my husband reached over and touched me. it was early. he rubbed my back, moved down to my ass,. Not really.’ ‘Do you . . .?’ My tongue wet and unceasing upon her, caressing with tenderness about her neckline then up to her chin, further still upon her earlobes, the warmth of feeling too as I took her soft hair into my mouth with playful abandon, amorous in my intentions grasping her playfully about my lips. ‘I’m not sure about THIS’ ‘I AM – my dear’ ‘DONT’ you call me your dear!’ ‘I have been busy during these past four years, she continued.’ ‘Doing quite nicely without you!’ ‘NO you. He slid his hand inside the scalloped lace edging of the waistband and, feeling down, pushed his penis and balls back between hislegs, wriggling to achieve a degree of comfort.He paused. It was too late now to change his mind now. "Just thisevening Sophie, just for me. Just to please me." She had said.He picked up the dress. He wondered if one was supposed to stepinto it and pull it up, completely unbutton it and don it like acoat, or put it over one's head and drag it down. In the end he. Her legs were bare, opting to leave her pantyhose behind also.I let out a long whistle of approval.“I’m glad you like it,” she breathed sexily. “You don’t think it’s too much.”“No, it’s definitely not too much,” I replied, trying to see if she was wearing panties under the thin silk.She did a quick spin and her hemline flew up and confirmed my suspicions. All she was wearing was the dress and her yellow strappy sandals. I felt that my pants were suddenly too tight. It was going to be a fun.