Her husband was dressed a little like me. We sat and ate, chatted and drank some wine. It was a nice evening. I offered to help wash up but was told ...o leave everything in the dish washer. Nevertheless, it was an excuse for Joyce to get up from the table as I put the dishes in the dishwasher. I felt her hands on my bum as I leant over. I felt her stroke my arse, and I don’t mind telling you I have a nice arse, and then, as I stood up, I felt her circle her hands around my waist and down over. It felt so natural, I wasn't even thinking about it. I felt so helpless, so submissive. He continued fucking me, every time going in deep. He said something like,"You like it now, huh?"I couldn't even deny it, I just screamed ,"yes." while he continued taking my ass. He answered,"good, you will be my other girlfriend." He fucked me and fucked me, I was in a realm of existence of plain and pleasure. I felt so penetrated. I could feel his entire dick inside, every inch. I could feel my entire. It was warm, welcoming and not cramped. We had already enjoyed a full meal earlier in the afternoon so decided on a drink or two in the bar. A table for two in a corner, something bubbly for Anita and a single malt for me.There were a few other couples dotted around and we passed an hour so in our own pleasant conversation. During the odd lull I eyed up a few of the women, and in a couple of cases made eye contact that lasted just a split second longer than would generally be considered. She was sweating a lot she was already quite wet, I knew. And on the other hand my erection was reeling with sexual anger.Whatever, those two Muslim tailors continued playing with my wife’s breasts, consuming as much of the milk as they could suck from her breasts. Time seemed to be frozen, as it were! They inter-exchanged their positions and thus continued to savor the lactic nectar from her breasts, by turns. Her pleasure-moans were getting louder, which suggested me she was now approaching.