Riding is something her and I just don’t do anymore. My prick doesn’t do what Mark’s can, something she’s admitted more recently.That Thursday...morning, the last time we had sex I offered her the position of being on top. My wife politely declined.Slapping sounds of fucking was now apparent.“Oh, you’re deep,” My wife said, this time her voice a bit louder. I think she wanted me to hear her.Finally it was my time. Finally I would get to witness and be a part of my wife’s pleasure, if only in a. It was cold out and she was clearly just looking for warmth. The conversation got silent and I found my imagination taking control of my mind. My cock twitched in my jeans. I tried to act like nothing happened, but she was having none of that."HAHA... you have got to be k**ding me..." Embarrassment ruled my face, and I was speechless. "Guys really are all the same huh...? Don't worry about it, I won't say anything, I am complimented by your attraction." She added with a smile, looking up at me. Instead I laid there and enjoyed the rock hard cock pressed against my ass. I could tell he was still awake, and for at least a half hour we stayed like that. He must have been dying to act, either by moving away from me, or fucking me. His cock was throbbing harder and harder with each second. He needed relief. I felt him his hands rubbing across my body, eventually settling on my stomach, as well as giving one slight thrust from his hips. He cleared his throat, and that’s when I decided to. I was disappointed when the next beep wasn't a Grindr alert, but a text from my wife. She also wanted me to pick up whipping cream. I texted back I would and... phooey!... she texted back:Hurry.SIGH.To make matters worse, I wasn't getting any response from the eighteen-year-old.God, I hated waiting.It made me feel more pathetic.More dependent.So exacerbating my pathetic dependency, I texted back:Can you host?If he could, I would find a way to get there before going home. My wife would be.