I was talking to a guy late at night. My hubby is not really a night owl so after watching us flirt around a little bit, he decided to go to bed. I ...ept talking. Something about this one made me want to keep talking. He was very different. Not like sweet or romantic or anything but cagy, confident, and mysterious, almost like a spy or something. He kept talking not about what he wanted to do to me (like most of them did) but rather what I would do for him. Places he wanted me to go,. ” She sat down on my bed on her hands and knees. I sat down on my knees behind her and glanced at her butt hole. It seemed really tight to me. “Are you sure this is all right?” I asked naively. “Of course,” she smiled at me, “just spit on my ass a few times and it will go just fine. Your dick is surely lubricated enough already.”She sure was right about that, my prick was dripping with pre-cum. I simply did as she told me. I spit on her ass a couple of times and rubbed my saliva in her butt. Surprisingly, they were no longer there. Puzzled, I wondered if she had stopped, afraid she'd be in trouble. I went back around the house to the front porch and looked inside while I smoked. And there the were, on the couch now, still kissing heavily while my wife's blouse and bra were tossed on the floor! Hakan's hands were roaming over her small tits while she pulled his mouth to hers with one hand and rubbed his cock through his pants with the other. Her legs were slightly spread and one of. This was an XL1200 with more balls than the Boston Bruins locker room. I was glad I still had a bikers license as I was able to take it for a spin. They were asking three G's and I could swing that easy enough as well as pip insurance. So I gave them a c note and went to move some money around and came back a few hours later with the money; a helmet; and a pair of bikers goggles. We did the paper work, then I was given the keys. I mounted the bike and drove back to Ella's.I doubt I will ever.