I wasn't the timefor more talking.THE NEXT DAYI returned to work the following day with mixed feelings and my emotionsall over the place. I was elated...I had made contact with my missinghusband, but confused whether I wanted him back or not; if it meant hewould not be able fulfill his desires. Which, perhaps, now were more of acompulsion. Would he resent me? It was about mid-morning when my mobilebuzzed, it was an unfamiliar number but I answered hoping it was myRichard."Hello," my heart leapt. " To reward her, I groped her tits with one hand and her cunt with the other, making her moan. When I turned back to the cooker and the cutting board, she carried on. "Then when you told me to show my stripes to your friend in the rattan workshop, I felt you were satisfied if not proud to have me show my body to others. As for me, it made me feel proud to belong to you, to show off your marks on my tits and arse. Tied as I am now, I'd be as proud if a friend of yours walked in and saw me here.". We made contact down there long enough for me to know that she was more than a little moist. And shaved. Becky leaned forward and brushed her very stiff nipples against my chest; first up and down, then side to side. “We.” Brush. “Don’t.” Brush. “Have.” Brush-brush. “Time.” Those nipples and her blush suggested otherwise, though. After that, the only thing that touched was our gaze. My hand kept my cock stiff, not that it needed much encouragement. She was going to give in and I was going to be. Tuesdays in December are notoriously dead, so there’s a lot of ‘make work’ going on. If there are no customers, there’s always dusting, cleaning, or window washing that can occupy time without wasting it. I decided to do that while Tammy finished up. Sliding by her in the kitchen, I put my hands on her shoulders, so she wouldn’t back into me accidentally. “Excuse me Tam,” I said, as I brushed by. Dropping the knife onto the cutting board, she replied, “I can’t do this any more!” Backing away, I.