I counted, knowing that each second would feel much longer to her. The suction of her trying to inhale stopped, started, stopped, and started as tes...ed for air. I counted to ten, then fifteen, then twenty. The suction as she tried to breath became more rapid. At twenty-five, I removed my hand and air rushed into the snorkel.I pressed her shoulder and got several short "mmm"s in between in- and out-rushing breaths.On the table was a folded heating pad, which I reached inside and retrieved a. To be honest, I wanted to feel like one of the old-school writers, so the simple pen was my preferred writing tool. I chewed on my pen when deep in thought and rapped my forehead with it when frustrated. Right now, my head throbbed from the thumping it had taken over the last hour, unable to concentrate as his words kept echoing inside my head.Your writing lacks authenticity, he had said. It's planned. Calculated. A far cry from the poems of the Romantic writers you hope to emulate, he had. By now both of them were completely lust-crazed, and it showed in the frantic, frenzied way he fucked her and she responded.Tom could not believe his wife or the way that she was acting! This wasn’t the sweet demure, almost bashful Julie he knew - the same Julie who wouldn’t get undressed in front of him and always wanted the lights turned down low if not completely off when they made love. This was a sexy, sultry, little harlot who had no problems expressing what she wanted and how to go about. Frustrating for you?" I knew about blue balls, every boyfriend I'd ever had complained about them. I thought they were probably a bunch of hooey, but wasn't really sure."What if I told you that your assumption is half right? Someone was frustrated, but it might not necessarily have been me." You mean..." I trailed off and I'm sure I made some signal that I figured it out, because he started nodding his head."That's right. We waited because I wasn't ready. Cheryl certainly was ready and willing,.