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Making a fool of my husband. Hmm . . . I hadn’t thought of it that way. “This is not negotiable,” I hiss. “Calm down, Lila. You can have me any way you want. Think of me as your toy.” “If I wanted one of us to be an inanimate object, I’d be fucking my husband now. Not you.” “Damn. Whatever, girl. Let’s just fuck. I’m not your marriage counselor.” I smile sweetly, yet phonily, and roll us around so that now I am on top. A compromise. I slide up and down along his shaft, wishing he’d finish sooner rather than later. This isn’t going as well as I’d hoped. My mind is begging my mouth to tell him to fuck off. ‘I’m not your marriage counselor!’ His nasty words echo repeatedly inside my head. Why won’t he finish already! This was a mistake. “Oh shit!” Michael’s eyes open wide as if he had just seen a ghost. I turn my head to the side, shaking my hair away from my face and see my husband standing in the doorway. I start to jump off Michael. “Don’t,” Bradley says, or rather. She excused herself. She had to go to the bathroom apparently. I chugged down my beer and told my wife that I wanted to go back to the room and grab another cigar. Neither my wife nor her husband seemed to care or think the least bit of it. I was walking toward our room and found a butler and asked him where room 304 is. He pointed me in the direction, and I nearly ran toward it, knocking when I got there, and she answered in her bathing suit. Without even thinking we lunged toward each other, kissing and grabbing and moving toward the bed. I grabbed her by the ass and picked her up and put her on the bed, starting to kiss down her body. She sat up and untied her bathing suit top and I finally got to see what I had been fantasizing about since I saw her. They were perfect C tits with beautiful perky nipples just waiting to be sucked and licked on. I kissed them and grabbed them, continuing to kiss lower and lower, sliding down her bottoms and working toward her perfectly shaved.
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