I realized I wasn’t being fucked by my husband but been made love to. He touches me tenderly and I melt, he holds my breasts with great reverence an... I smile and he inserts his penis in my vagina and I moan. Wonderful, one would think, and wonderful it is. In the beginning. After that one would get impatient, and so did I. I wanted him to maul my boobs, I wanted him to choke me and pull my hair, I wanted to see lust in eyes and I wanted his cock- not a penis to make love to- but a cock a big. The moment he entered the bar I knew. His eyes roamed the room and found me, then took a slow route up my legs, hips, brests and face. I met his gaze across the room and smiled a telling smile, then turned to sip my drink. He was alone as my husband had been the night I met him. Dressed in a red t-shirt with indecipherable writing on it and black jeans. I didn't notice his shoes, it's a fallacy that girls judge a man on his footwear, but I could hear the sound of steel capped heels as he came. More

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