Not so. Her car was parked at the curb of a chain motel where the rooms faced onto the parking lot, not an interior hallway.As I sat, or rather leaned... I considered the last month or so of following, watching, taking photos and making notes; in other words stalking my wife. Taking photos was the easy part; playing private detective was a bit more difficult. I had decided to confront my wife. It was time to make a change, and it would be in my favor. I was tired of sitting in a cold, damp car. As he pumped harder and harder, he would hit her with the whip. The sting boys would gawk at. Unlucky for them, she had a boyfriend, his name was Sammy. Sammy was 21 years old and was finishing up college, though there was a four year difference, he still loved and respected her. He was the luckiest guy, to be dating her. It was June 21st, and Susan climbed out of the car, and walked over to Sammys door. She rang the doorbell, trying her hardest to contain her excitement. When the door. She was also brought up with strict attitudes about dancing and drinking and card-playing, even Solitaire, but these she seemed to modify mostly on her own. It was sex that was so slow to evolve in her mind.The first years of our marriage were filled with guilt for her. She never wanted to admit that she had desires, that she could or would get horny, that she would desire an orgasm; she often satisfied me and then ended our sex. Now, for me, I didn't have that background, I felt sex was to be. I was there in my bra and panties when I was joined by Aisha and Gemma, asking me for my opinion on their new clobber. “Hmmm… lovely, very chic!” I said, admiring Gemma’s new red skirt. “Hey naughty!” I said, as Aisha twanged the waist of my panties. ”You just look so sexy!” said Aisha. “I know but…” I was interrupted by Gemma who had decided it was funny to unclip my front-loaded bra and suddenly I was spilling out. In the cubicle next door, it sounded like the other girls were having their.