We discussed normal married things checking on each other’s days and such, when she told me she had gotten a text from Mark.“He wants to come over...on Saturday,” She said.“Ok, do you want to see him? I asked.“I do,” She replied as she crossed her legs.I reached out and touched her right leg that was resting on her left knee. They were a shade above the stubble stage. The last time she shaved was by me in the shower, ten days ago before Mark arrived. Regardless of the shadow they felt. Her outer lips were pudgy, like her belly, but inner lips still poked through. She was right, her pussy was swollen and pink, begging to be serviced. Her clit was large, but not alarmingly so, and white juices ran down from her puckering vagina. Please, she begged, Please lick my clit. Intrigued, I obliged, taking small laps of her swollen button. Despite how throbbing it was, it was still squishy and wrinkly underneath my tongue. I flicked it with the tip of my tongue back and forth, eliciting. More

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