04-11-2019, 02:01 PM
It felt wonderful, so fantastic I almost forgot Don was sitting only feet away. It was the most intense sexual touch I had ever experienced, bar none! My whole body trembled in anticipation of the next press. And then you did it. You changed your touch, pressing in and dragging the flesh of my thigh outward, away from my tingling pussy, opening my secret lips, holding them exposed, then letting them snap back in a flurry of frantic, neural impulses. I almost passed out and briefly lost hold of my side of the magazine. By the time I came to my senses and grabbed it you were pulling my pussy apart again.
I came quickly that night but harder upstairs where I didn’t have to pretend nothing was going on. Of course, you and I knew there was but we maintained the pretense. During the day you didn’t try to touch me any differently, simply hugging and kissing my cheek or pecking me on the lips. But at night you continued to pull on my pussy lips until we both came, right next to your father.
Upstairs, outside the bathroom, the urge to feel your meat filling me became stronger each night. I wanted to beg you to come out, grab my tits hard and press me to the wall, enter me with unbridled enthusiasm, then throw me to the floor and fuck me from behind!
But I didn’t call out, and you never put your hand on my pussy, upstairs or downstairs. Nevertheless, eventually I knew I would beg for it or you would touch me. It was only a matter of time and then our lives would change forever, and probably caught. It was only a sign of Don’s distraction that our shenanigans hadn’t been discovered already. Amazing, really, until I found out why.
A letter from the hospital arrived addressed to your father. Suspecting a billing error, I opened it. It confirmed the date for the start of his radiation treatments and follow-on chemotherapy. Don had cancer!
I stumbled into the kitchen in a daze and sat down. My husband was sick, possibly deathly ill! We had been married for twenty-four years, survived the death of our first child, and raised a fine son. Yes, we had our difficulties of late but I still loved Don. I suddenly knew why Don disappeared at night and sat vacantly when he was at home. He was preoccupied with his fate. No wonder he hadn’t noticed Donny and I playing around! But why should he face this on his own? Why hadn’t he shared this with his family?
Anger flooded through me and the more I thought about it the angrier I became. I was his wife, Donny was his son, and we were a family! My hands trembled and I bit my lip often waiting for him to come home. Boy, I was going to let him have it.
I didn’t, of course. I did just the opposite. Don seemed, if anything, relieved that I knew. He cried and admitted he couldn’t find the courage to tell us. He didn’t want us to feel bad. Can you imagine? He was facing death and he didn’t want us to be sad.
I came quickly that night but harder upstairs where I didn’t have to pretend nothing was going on. Of course, you and I knew there was but we maintained the pretense. During the day you didn’t try to touch me any differently, simply hugging and kissing my cheek or pecking me on the lips. But at night you continued to pull on my pussy lips until we both came, right next to your father.
Upstairs, outside the bathroom, the urge to feel your meat filling me became stronger each night. I wanted to beg you to come out, grab my tits hard and press me to the wall, enter me with unbridled enthusiasm, then throw me to the floor and fuck me from behind!
But I didn’t call out, and you never put your hand on my pussy, upstairs or downstairs. Nevertheless, eventually I knew I would beg for it or you would touch me. It was only a matter of time and then our lives would change forever, and probably caught. It was only a sign of Don’s distraction that our shenanigans hadn’t been discovered already. Amazing, really, until I found out why.
A letter from the hospital arrived addressed to your father. Suspecting a billing error, I opened it. It confirmed the date for the start of his radiation treatments and follow-on chemotherapy. Don had cancer!
I stumbled into the kitchen in a daze and sat down. My husband was sick, possibly deathly ill! We had been married for twenty-four years, survived the death of our first child, and raised a fine son. Yes, we had our difficulties of late but I still loved Don. I suddenly knew why Don disappeared at night and sat vacantly when he was at home. He was preoccupied with his fate. No wonder he hadn’t noticed Donny and I playing around! But why should he face this on his own? Why hadn’t he shared this with his family?
Anger flooded through me and the more I thought about it the angrier I became. I was his wife, Donny was his son, and we were a family! My hands trembled and I bit my lip often waiting for him to come home. Boy, I was going to let him have it.
I didn’t, of course. I did just the opposite. Don seemed, if anything, relieved that I knew. He cried and admitted he couldn’t find the courage to tell us. He didn’t want us to feel bad. Can you imagine? He was facing death and he didn’t want us to be sad.
![[+]](https://xossipy.com/themes/sharepoint/collapse_collapsed.png)