"John peaked up and eyebrow and looked at her before answering, "What was it honey?" I'm not proud of it. I hope you can forgive me for what I did." T...y me." Ok. It was two and a half years ago. You were at your convention in New York City. I had just found out about Daddy's death. My cousin Jenny came over and I cried on her shoulder. I had called you and you were trying to get your flight changed to get home as soon as possible. That night, Jenny talked me into going out. She figured that you. ’ ‘Do you mean that talking, and therapy, such as counseling, couldn’t help?’ ‘You don’t get it, Jan. We were high school sweethearts, and we fell into the trap of thinking that we should get married, because it was more romantic. We should have made sure that we were more compatible. I don’t think that we are.’ ‘Well, I just don’t get this. I have been very happy in this marriage, but you haven’t?’ ‘Nope. That’s the problem. We’re too different. You’re happy with missionary-style sex, as long. “Oh, I’m sorry to disturb you,” he said, “I’m Tony, I’ve moved in next door yesterday.” “Welcome Tony, I’m Mike,” I replied shaking his expended hand. “What can I do for you?” “I’m sorry to call so early but I think the fuse has gone on my kettle and wondered if you had a small screwdriver I could borrow. I can’t function without my morning coffee.”“Yes, I think so,” I said, “come on in, I’ll find it for you.” As he stepped into the hallway, I heard my wife’s voice behind me. “Who is it Mike?”. As expected the warm hand landed just above my boobs but it was inside my nightie. I was doing everything in my sleep. Probably not having a man touch me for almost 8-10 months has got me excited with this touch.At this point I realised what I was doing and woke up. I noticed that Abhay’s hand was inside my nightie from top and just above my boobs. If he moved his hand about an inch downwards he could touch my bare boobs. I slowly got up holding Abhay’s hand, he was still acting as if he was.