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She didn’t consent to anal sex but admitted she did enjoy it.I whole heartedly confess that I’m not her husband in these situations. I turn into some voyeur who has no control. She confesses she does not feel like a wife but more like a slut who can live out any sexual experience. The problems of course all start when you come down from your sexual high. That’s when you feel jealousy, anger and question your actions.Months after this party we have talked about swinging and where it could end up. Despite everything it’s a life we enjoy. A life we want to continue. We have no c***dren and were hurting nobody in the process. We have confronted our demons and have matured as swingers. We had two more experiences since this party to date. Both were controlled and highly erotic.I feel I need to clear up a few things as I have stated these stories as true. Actually I stated they are based on true events. All locations and numbers of people shared are true. My wife didn’t actually cheat. I. Christ, what next? Jell-O shots? I kept moving back to the bathroom.It felt like I was standing there at the urinal about a year, pissing everything out that I had been drinking since dawn. Eventually, a gallon or two lighter, I zipped up and headed over to the sink and combed my hair. No, I didn’t wash my hands. Old joke:Two fellows go into a bathroom and take a leak side by side. Afterwards one guy goes and washes his hands. When he notices the other guy leave without washing up, he says, ‘When I was at Harvard, I was taught to wash my hands after going to the bathroom!’ The second guy nods and goes, ‘Well, when I was at Rensselaer, I was taught not to piss on my hands.’I straightened myself up and smiled at the bloodshot eyes in the mirror. I was still holding my own, but Marilyn was going to be so hungover in the morning! Laughing to myself, I left the bathroom to see what mischief my wife could get into now. As I walked past the bar, the blonde had been joined by a brunette.
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On the other hand, I knew that my language skills were very poor. Excitement mixed with anxiety. Interesting connection. Fortunately, the next three days flew by quickly, confusion at work as usual, I dreamed of a little peace, which I couldn't find even at home. I thought that I did not agree to this English, today was supposed to be the first class, and I felt that I had neither the strength nor the desire to do it. Perhaps there was also a fear, my dreams of Mrs. Wong's would come into contact with reality. And reality can be cruel. On my way to class, I once again listened to how senseless Ania's work is, she complained about both her friends and her boss. In fact, she didn't like anything about it. I listened to it as usual, showing the minimum interest Ania accepted. There were a lot of people in the school, fortunately I wasn't the oldest student there, which happened quite often. The balding, ridiculously serious fat man most often stood out from the group of 10 years younger.

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