Her legs were spread wide open and were wrapped around some young biker thug who was on top of her pounding her pussy. This guy could not have been mo...e than 20 but he was huge, with a body builder’s physique, long hair and tattoos all over his body. On his forearm was tattooed his name “Dale”. I couldn’t believe what I heard and saw next, Dale said to my Cougar wife “where’s the lube and some rubbers, I want your ass”. She replied “there on the TV stand” as he got off of her and went to get. “Vegetarian?”“No thank you – I am an enthusiastic carnivore.”She glares at me. Has my answer offended her?“White bread or brown?” she prompts.“I only ever have white bread in cafes,” I say, as if she should know this.“Coffee’s not included.”“Your biggest mug then!”“Which brand?”“I don’t know.”“Just pick one.”“You choose. But…” I lean forward and fix her with the eye of a woman whose consciousness has been chemically sustained for much too long, “… choose well.” I lean back and give her my. The sheer sluttiness captures my imagination. Maybe I am a nymphomaniac at heart. I flick my tongue, lashing the tiny knot where your circumcised head meets the concrete shaft, delighting at the way it bobs and your hips squirm as you exhale noisily. My lips graze the tip, nibbling just a millimetre or two then backing off, close enough to excite, far enough that you can't take advantage. I taste your pre-come, sweet and potent. Lifting my eyes to yours I slide my tongue out and drift it slowly. That's why I said she was classy. She wanted something... something she knew I wanted too... but she was able to handle that desire... to delay gratification in a way that made that gratification as gratifying as it was possible to be. Her control, and the knowledge that she wanted exactly what I wanted, and would still want it later, gave me the control necessary to retain my composure.So I asked her the questions. All of them. And she answered them, talking about how, once they were married.