Ann listened intently to my confession and, while I left a few encounters out, for the most part, I was an open book with her.When I finished my tale,...my wife leaned over and gave me a very sensual kiss. She wrapped her arms around me and said, “I’m so happy you shared that with me.” I smiled and told her it was good to finally get it all off of my chest, so to speak.---Now, my wife was calling me on my shit and I was genuinely confused about the whole situation. Did she really expected me. I kissed the space between her breasts, down to her stomach, where I let my tongue explore her navel. I kissed my way to her waist, where her jeans were. I brought my hands to her jeans and unbuttoned them, and pulled them down to her ankles, where I undid her shoes, pulled them off with her socks, and let her pants fall to the floor. I massaged her calves with my hands, kissing them occasionally. Her skin was so smooth and smelled of lavender. I took my time to appreciate her body. I went to. Strange and erotic. A little odd, but pleasant. Not nearly as pleasant as this though.” The counseling sessions that had resulted from the most recent storm in our 33-year marriage had elicited confessions and concessions. I had confessed my emotional need for sexual passion and a fetish for verbal humiliation. She had confessed her inability to refrain from teasing other men, and her intense desire to seduce other women. The main concession was the decision to open our marriage. She allowed me. You stroke my bare shoulders, my back, not softly but urgently. Then as another wave of need engulfs us, you abruptly cup the round globes of my bottom and pull me into you, trapping your swollen member between us, your knee separating my thighs. Restraint abandons me and I rub myself on you, frantic for relief. I need you, Chris! I need you now! I need you desperately! I ... I ... NEED you!As if hearing my wordless plea, your fingers find the zipper of my dress and slide it smoothly down. The.
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