My husband has one hand laid possessively on her hip, the other gestures towards me casually, as if I were in truth nothing more to him than his hired...help. His back is ramrod straight and she's leaning in, one long-fingered hand over full lips as he says something quietly in her ear. Her dark and heavy-lidded eyes smoulder with a sultry sensuality and she flashes me a smirk. Suddenly, I see myself in her mind's eye as she imagines me naked and humiliated, bent over the coffee table as she. The next time I met her, she was wearing a low cut top and jeans. We had been to McDonald’s and she took a corner seat where no one could notice us. She was sitting in such a way that her boobs were placed on the table and as a result when she was leaning to the front almost whole of her boobs were almost popping out. I was staring at the melons and she noticed and asked me not to stare like that. I told her that if she didn’t want me to stare at those she wouldn’t have exposed it in the first. More

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