He knew exactly what I meant. “Again? That is third time today,” he reminded me. “I know, but I’m so turned on. I was thinking of summer and...all the places we fucked…” “Oh yeah,” he said with a wink. “I remember,” he added. I pulled off my jeans and slid my panties down as he sat at his desk and watched. “Spread your legs and I make you cum again,” he said showing a lot more interest in my presence. I sat on his bed, naked from the waist down. “Move near the edge,” he directed. I wasted. “That shower is mine.” Our eyes locked, neither of us wanted to back down. In addition to the joking relationship we had, we had also gotten into many fights because of our mutual tendency to never back down. I guess you can call it a competitive edge, but it was more extreme than that. Especially with each other. Without breaking eye contact I reached in and turned on the water, then put my hands on my waistband and started to slowly pull my boxers down. Still looking, she completely disrobed. With her upper body lying on her back she was crying out of control now while hiding her face with both hands. When I stood up so as to pull down her panties, I realized that I had an erection, I did manage to hide it from her. The sight of the cunt of my wife very full from another man's cum was exiting me and this made me mad at myself. I knew thatI should be disgusted and angry but certainly not exited.I had trouble pulling her panties as she refused to lift her bottom from the bed, so I. The images and flashbacks – or fantasies of flashbacks – were grainy, sepia, sometimes black and white.Hanson lived on Airedale Road, out of the city in the sprawling suburbs where the houses were detached and palatial with white porch columns. His parents went away a lot. And the parties came out whenever they were gone. Crazy parties. Strangers dancing with strangers. Girls making out in their underwear. Bottles and glasses clinking, contents swirling and splashing, sparkling somewhere.