The hairs of her pussy, usually so soft and smooth, were dry and crinkly to my touch with juices that had dried. My knuckles felt dampness in her silk... knickers, and her slit, which usually requires attention before getting wet, was slick with love slime. I think I gasped, my heart beating like a hammer as I realised I was touching my lovely wife's pussy not long after it had been used by another man.Then she whispered 'I was a real slut for him'. It took my breath away and made my heart race,. . what," I responded earnestly, "this whole, magical experience should befake, just like my sham of a marriage? Dianna, we are going to do this; if notfor you, for me. I'm not expecting you to commit to me for a lifetime. Thiswhole weekend, starting from when I walked through your door last night, isshaping up to be exactly that; Magic. When it's over, I want to be able to lookback and say: 'This was real.'" But Baby," she protested, "I'm not real. You don't know anything about me..."I shushed. More

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