He had fallen asleep sitting on the wing and leaning against the side of his flyer. The sun was setting, huge and bloated on the horizon, painting the...earth and the cirrus clouds red, purple and orange. A cold, evening wind had picked up and had blown loose sand in his face. As it happened again, he realized that was what had awakened him.He got up and stretched, trying to ignore his cold, stiff joints as they complained loudly about his falling asleep in this cool weather. Then he picked up. "Would what?" Pay you--" I trail off.He grins, his fingers knuckle-deep inside me, rubbing my g-spot as his thumb circles my clit."I'll have to disappoint; never got the hang of walking in heels."I choke out a laugh, which turns into a gasp as he starts to grind my clit hard with his thumb against my pelvic bone.The car pulls over outside an apartment building."Have a nice evening guys," says the driver sardonically as we climb out.We can't keep our hands off each other as we move through the. She wondered if hubby noticed. She hoped he had. She wanted him to wonder--no, she wanted him to know she was being unfaithful, but she wouldn't tell him outright unless he had the balls to ask. Until then, she'd make him squirm. She took a drink of her wine and said, "I need some relief." David wasn't sure if he cared why his wife was suddenly so affectionate, wasn't sure he cared why she didn't have on her bra anymore, wasn't sure about a lot of things. But he was sure he was suddenly horny. “Paul?” I turned to find two weeping men facing me.“We’re sorry,” Rory sobbed. “We really are. Please don’t send us away. We won’t trade our wives anymore. Honest.”I looked back and forth at two grown men shedding tears of shame. I’d never seen either of them cry. The times when our father had brought them back from a whooping behind the shed, they weren’t crying. When he was a little kid and his dog died, Rory didn’t cry. Even at the Surrender, Mick didn’t shed any tears.“Paul, I know that.