No shit!I've lived with him long enough to know the turned-up corners of hiseyes, the sun browned freckles from our days on the beach, the subtlecurve...of his jaw, the gentle ridge of his nose, even the way hischeekbones form arches. There's no mistake -- it's my husband's face.And yet ... yet it's not his face. It's softer, smoother. It's lost thehardness of masculinity. I swear, those lips are fuller and form acupid's bow that wasn't there yesterday. Sun flecked or not, she'sdefinitely not my. I let go of her wrists and brought my hands to her breasts. She gasped as she felt my fingers close around them and squeeze. She swatted at my arms, twisting her shoulders to try and break free from the grip I had on her. As she pulled away from me, I took hold of the fabric covering one of her breasts and peeled it down until her nipple popped free. I kept pulling at the bra until the strap fell from her shoulder and slid down her arm. Her breast slipped out into full view.you can contact me. More

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