We sat together and she started playing games while my hand ran down her back to her bum. My fingers couldn't help but rub under her bum. Wifey enjoye... it by leaning forward a bit allowing my fingers to move further under to her pussy. She was already soaked as I could feel her wetness through the leggings. My fingers now pressing against her wet warm lips. She started to let out a small moan but stopped herself by biting her lip. Owwww how I could tell she wanted it so badly. The wife decided. So they try to sexualize themselves, they make sexual allusions or innuendos, or talk about—seriously, I’m not making this up—how many times a week they screw their wives and how satisfied the women are. Or how some waitress, sales clerk, cashier, or skirt they met at a hotel bar was hitting on them. ‘Look at me, I’m a man, I’m potent, I’m experienced.’ I mean, I get it, I do, sort of. Except it doesn’t change the way I’m looking at that guy the way he hopes it will. Just the opposite. It just. The ritual had just said "oil", so she wasn't really sure what that meant. But she figured she'd rather deal with baby oil than the olive oil she had waiting in the kitchen. She was getting more excited at the thought of rubbing herself with oil and fantasizing about summoning a creature to overwhelm her husband with desire. She let one hand glide down between her legs, letting loose a slight whimper as her palm grazed across the lace of her underwear. Pulling herself together, Rebecca made her. And guys giving me funny looks at social functions. Or worse, laughing. Carol denied everything. Now it gets weird for me. I started to follow her. She was fucking guys from work, from church and any other men that attracted her. I snuck around and watched when I could. Other times I would just wait outside the house or motel. It excited me! I had no idea I was weird. I confronted her and she said: So what? I still love only you. I just like fucking strange guys! And I accepted it. She would.