And sometimes we just made love. God I truly did love her. I am a lucky, lucky man.Last Friday, I finished work and drove home with a rock hard erection, hoping like hell Chrissy had not showered. The thought of cleaning her slit with my tongue had my heart pounding.She greeted me at the door wearing the same clothes she had worn the night she was raped. Oh my God. It was all I could do not to fuck her on the spot. But the night was young and I was sharing it with the hottest slut on the planet.During dinner, which as usual was delicious, Chrissy seemed quiet and nervous. She was quite flushed and every now and then glanced at the clock. I asked her if anything was wrong and she said no.We had finished dinner and cleaned up and were sitting in the lounge having a joint and a wine when the doorbell rang. My wife looked at me, turned scarlet red and said“You’d better answer it”.I had no idea what was going on but went to the door and opened it. I couldn’t believe it. There stood Evan,. Slowly. Yes, that's it." I almost bolted at this, nerves sizzling as I caught my breath, but he waited, unmoving, and that voice had its inevitable effect. My fingers were stiff, awkward, slipping buttons through button holes, one by one. "Now, pull it open. Slowly, sweetheart. That's good. No, don't take it off. Just take the ends and pull them back behind you. Tuck them into your waistband. Ah, yes. That's gorgeous. Now come closer."I moved, my heart racing under the lace of my now-exposed bra, until I stood between his legs. He leaned forward in his chair and reached out, lightly skimming his fingertips up my thighs, and my vaginal muscles clenched involuntarily. When they reached the hem of my skirt he slid his fingers just under the edge, moving smoothly upward, further under my skirt. They brushed lightly, softly, in tiny circles, barely skimming the lacy tops of my stockings. Then he ran his hands upward, palms firm against my skin, teasing and caressing me while he pulled my.
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