I just sat there for a few minutes. I was too worked up to go back home so I went to a Denny's to think over several cups of coffee. I just had a wonderful time with a gorgeous young lady, so why couldn't I just revel in my nirvana and be happy ... because after twelve years of loving someone, you don't just turn it off like a switch. For the second time tonight I felt the pangs of guilt. I thought about what Diane said, how guilty she felt after sleeping with someone. I wondered if she felt more or less guilty than I feel right now.This isn't fair, I thought. I'm the injured party here, I shouldn't feel guilty at all. I need to get on with my life. How am I going to do that if I feel guilty every time I enjoy someone's company. Again, I pushed the guilt to the side and tried to concentrate on the feeling of elation that I felt with Cathy's mouth engulfing my cock. I smiled to myself and took another sip of coffee.The next month was actually kind of fun. I could feel myself getting. Yet I was dying for more.It seemed to take an hour, but was more like ten minutes, before his hips started to buck spasmodically, and he gave me the few delicious thrusts I craved. And then he came in me, hot, heavy spurts of his bareback seed, splashing against my cervix and tunnel walls, and yet I could not orgasm from it. I had reached a plateau, and his flurried ending was not enough to kick me off the edge of the climax cliff.He finished, and lay atop me, squashing me to the floor, and I tried to rock my hips, to drive my vagina onto his shaft, and it wasn’t enough. I shed a few tears, wanting to feel that post-orgasmic bliss, and yet he wouldn’t allow it. Now I was confused, and conflicted. I wanted Ron so very, very badly, both physically and emotionally. I loved my husband to death. And right that second, I wanted Ron more, a lot more. So much that I would have done anything for him, and his cock. I felt out of control when with Ron, and yet so very safe when he.
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