All weekend long once you’re back visiting your parents, you send me little suggestive texts. Sometimes you send them loving: ‘Missing you my sex... stud of a man. I love you so much and can’t wait to feel your body pressed against mine as we kiss’, ‘Where’s my lover? I’m aching to feel your lips against mine, your hands caressing my body, working me up into a frenzy for you’, ‘The sun’s shining and I’m in my bikini thinking of us having a private garden where you could come and take advantage. This time I was an sargent and married to a lovely young lady we were quitly enjoying our time together making love as young couples do. We moved into base housing my wife was concerned because she didn't know anyone. I told her to give it time it would happen. I came home one day to a very excited wife saying she had met the nicest young black lady living across the street. I was glad she had found someone she could hang with so I didn't thank anything about it at all. As the days passed she. My nipples were hard against his lips as he nibbled me. I moaned with pleasure as his hand touched my thigh.“I love silk hose,” he said.“You can tell it's silk?” I asked. I was impressed.“Nothing feels like silk,” he said. He managed the clasps of my garter belt very easily, and rolled my stockings down one at a time, very slowly and carefully. He lay each of them on the coffee table and put his hands on my inner thighs, touching me lightly, then moved his hands around lifting me and taking the. Her upbringing hadn't exactly instilled the urge to share feelings. It had been hard enough to even have feelings, let alone talk about them – as far as anyone was interested to anyway.But things had changed; the villa opened her to emotions. She'd been forced to have them. Could she live with Alec again and not share what she'd experienced – and how she felt about that? She would become a stranger to her husband, a stranger in her own life if she couldn't share. She might as well not be with.