The sensations were heady even before Mick moved his concentrated efforts down. “What are you…” The tingling changed into sexual pressure. “O... God. What are you doing to me?” I tried to close my legs against the pleasure but found Mick’s shoulders holding my thighs apart. With my hands cuffed, there was no way to stop him. “Please, Mick. Stop it. Don’t make me…” It was too late. I became mindless as the tip of Mick’s tongue circled my exposed clitoris; my handcuffed body writhing like a. The conversations dwindled down to nothing. Now here I am: staring at this man across the table from me. We have no more words to say to each other. We haven't in months. I've grown bored of him. Some other man could intrigued me. This other man would have secrets. He could be a mystery. I would like to solve him.Has it come to this? Has my husband been a complex jigsaw puzzle? To be solved and then discarded as I search out another challenge? Am I as bad as his first wife? Is it me? Or is it. More

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