It didn't have the sour smell like when I masturbated. It smelled sweet. Trepidaciously, I touched my fingers to the tip of my tongue. It tasted like ...trawberry ice cream.I don't know if my breathing was shallow before then, but it was shallow now. I struggled for a half-remembered sense of a sandpaper tongue licking me in my sleep. After a few seconds of hesitation, I bolted from my bed to the light switch and turned on the light.I woke up half-willing to be convinced that I was crazy. It. “I knew it. I bet you fuck forty bums a week, you worthless slut.”It was totally humiliating, being degraded like this.The fingers were still probing. Damnit just fuck me and get it over with!He was caressing her clit now. Brenda tried to ignore it. Tried to go elsewhere in her mind. Let this be over. Let it be someone else it’s happening too.He continued on her clit. And she felt herself moistening. NO!But there was no doubt about it. His playing with her clit was drawing a response. She has probably got his trousers down and is sucking his cock if I know her well and it won't be long before he has her undressed and is sliding his cock into her wet and eager pussy. I have no idea how long this will go on for but I'm keeping an ear out to listen for her moans as I'm sure he's likely to make her cum several times. I might be left on the couch all night if he's that good. I'm eager for him to leave but not too quickly as I want to feel my wife's wet dripping pussy and to smell. Because, quite frankly, nothing we tried for a year worked. Also I do have a feeling that it might actually work, but it’s not my place to tell you about it.“In the end, she’s 18 years old and we couldn’t stop her if we wanted. I don’t want to push you into accepting her proposal, but if you do it we won’t stand in your way.”I like to think of me as a generally good person. I really do. But I have to confess that in the end the decision was driven by my wish for revenge. By my wish to hurt her.