Both hands are gently stroking it. It is a proud thing, standing there. A
separate person, as my sex was a few minutes ago. It is hard. So hard. I can
see the veins. His hand is gently moving up and down. Slowly. Each time he
passes the head he shivers. It seems to start at the base of his back and
travel upwards. Some times his head snaps back and a gasp escapes his mouth. He
pumping faster now, but still those long careful strokes. Wait! He is slowing.
I’m beginning to feel myself again: this is a very hot scene.

Watch more slutty wives getting screwed while their husbands are just spectators!

It was then that the little bald man came inside. He was about 50, looked
arab and was dressed in an elegant grey suit. He spoke to the receptionist,
who nearly fell on her knees in respect. He then walked back to the door.

“What’s wrong with you, Selma?” he called. He appeared to glower at somebody.
I was observing this gentleman with no great interest and resumed reading
the ‘TIME’. Presently the scent of musk announced A Feminine Presence.
I looked up. Standing beside him was this lady, and she was looking around
the lobby. She was about 27, wearing a long skirt and and full sleeved shirt,
with a black muslin scarf around her head. Blood rushed to my groin as I saw
her and my little pecker started getting on his feet. She was about 5′9″ tall,
with fair face, straight nose and high cheekbones, cool grey eyes and jet
black hair which reached a little below her shoulders. She had heavy breasts
which jutted out through the thin material of her shirt and full rounded hips
to match. Suddenly I caught her looking at me and our eyes locked for a few
seconds. Flustered I looked down at the ‘TIME’ and pretended to read it.

That night I met her again at the party. I had put her out of my mind and
was reaching for my ninth dose of wine from the low table, kept plentifully
served.

“Hello, eyecatcher..!”, I turned around and saw her. She had changed into
jeans and a T shirt and was standing there with her hands on hips.

“I would like an orange juice, would you oblige?” she asked me. There was a
a thin smile on her lips. I gave her the glass, but refused to let go
until her fingers closed on mine. “My, my”, she said gently wrenching it
from me. We looked at each other and burst out laughing. Somebody bumped into me
spilling wine on my shirt. I looked at him in disgust. “Come on”, I smiled at
her,”the garden seems much more civilized.”

I lead her to the parks where the crowd was a bit less. “My husband has gone
for the conference, I really should’nt be here, you know”, she said. I smiled
and patted her shoulder. We talked a bit, her husband was in the arms dealing
business and making tonnes of money. He usually doesnt take her around with
him. Not unlikely, I thought, with that load of money he can screw his ass
of every night with a bevy of the most desirable girls.

As we walked our hands brushed each other. After a time we stopped pretending
and my hand was on her elbow, pulling her close to me. Soon her hips ground
against me,

“Oops !” she said, but I drew her close, pulling her face to mine.

We kissed hungrily for a few minutes, my hands running over her thighs,
cupping and kneading her buttocks. Her heavy breasts rhythmically rubbed on
my chest.

“I really must go now” she gasped breaking the kiss.

“Of course.. of course,” I said “but where to go is the problem.Yours or mine?”.

She stared at me for some time.

“Listen romeo,” she pouted, “I want no trouble, ok? He’ll be back after…..”

My lips were again on hers, and my hands cupped and caressed her delicious
globes. She responded and pressed her pubic mound on my crotch.

“Ooh” she moaned “You really want to eat me!”

I couldnt get her to my room fast enough.
–

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