It was a torture session, of course. I was alone, I don’t have a master or mistress at the moment, and my sister didn’t have time to play.So I got...myself ready for a nice evening of self-torture. You see, I was lying down on my x-frame. You know what an x-frame is? Well it’s a frame shaped like an X. Duh. Mine is a nice one, padded with leather and with lots of metal rings and stuff for tying me up when I’m on the frame. And it’s adjustable, I can put it upright, or parallel to the floor.. I couldn't resist giving her ass a quick slap before getting behind her and slipping my cock inside her making her groan. We started off with me holding her down on the bed and slowly sliding in and out, from just my tip being in to my balls pressed against her lips. After only a short while I stopped holding her down and she started to push back against my thrusts groaning at me to go "deeper", and so I started pushing my entire body weight going as deep as possible and getting appreciative. It was as if he were someplace else.I went to sleep puzzled and unsatisfied. I awoke the next morning with a clear head and a terrible thought, "Is he having an affair?"No, that seemed an impossibility but maybe a one-night indiscretion that was now torturing him with guilt. I felt white hot anger in that instant. I had never conceived that I could be a jealous woman, but just the thought of another woman's hands on my husband, and I was ready to do bodily harm. What could he have done and with. Heat came out of the fan but I was more aware of the softer heat from his body. Human heat. Two people. Living, breathing people. The urge to touch him was everything. I looked away. I sat on my hands. He didn’t move.“I think about you all the time,” I said. I didn’t look at him. The rain was coming down harder than ever, running off the windscreen, the soft patter almost drowning out my voice. But he could hear me. I knew it from the still way he sat, his eyes on my mouth, his breath held like.
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