I wanted attention. I wanted to feel desired and craved. I also couldn't ignore the craving to feel naughty again, to feel my pure, carnal sexuality f...owing out. Those sweet memories of when I did somethig I knew I'd regret the next morning! Truth be told, I never regretted a single one of them. My husband knew about my sexual history or at least what I willingly told him. After all, some things are best left unsaid. Finishing my lipstick, I took a long, self-inspecting look in the bedroom. My hands grabbing your ass and pulling you tight. I can still feel you wet pressed up against me. I peel off your top and cup, squeeze your beautiful tits, teasing your nipples till they are hard, pinching, twisting them then ready for my to suck and nibble. I feel you moaning and arching as i do and my hands work your jeans undone. I slide them down and i drop to my knees and run my tongue over your wet lips. I get you sitting on the bike, back over the tank as I spread you wide and tongue. We chatted anytime he was at the bar, and I thought one of the times I caught him looking down my white blouse, my 38c boobs forming a nice cleavage which even naïve old me knew was good for tips. He repeatedly asked for salt & vinegar crisps, and I noticed that he and his pal were not eating them and had stockpiled a collection of around four packets. Perhaps they were taking them home after I thought. A few hours later with last orders approaching, Craig came up and ordered two pints and. Her hips were moving in response to my movements and her eyes were closed. As soon as she started to build towards her climax, I moved my hand away and kissed her neck and then started all over again. By this time she was biting her lips and moving faster. Suddenly she growled out loud and I knew that she had come in an explosion. Her breathing became heavier and she squeezed my arms tightly. I held her till the waves of pleasure washed her over and she slowly kept her head on my chest. I knew.