I had been his best man when he married Holly and he was mine when I married Kristine. We still got together whenever we could and had a lot of fun w...henever we did. When I married Kristine, Mike and Holly were only dating. I knew that he thought Kristine was hot, because she is, and because we had talked about our girlfriends a lot in the past. We were not swingers, just normal friends, but we enjoyed talking about our sex experiences, comparing our women, and sharing intimate details. I. A big thick bush, nicely trimmed at the sides, and jet-black to contrast with her porcelain skin. The middle two fingers of my right hand pushed through her pubes to the opening of her sopping cunt, then up and into her. "Oh fuck, yes," she gasped, "Push them deeper into me." After my initial hesitant strokes I started to finger-fuck her hard and fast. I pulled back and frantically worked my fingers time and time again into Lorraine's wet pussy, her thick pubes now dripping with her vaginal. Perhaps I should let them be. Scars heal over when left alone. Sometimes vanish like old friends or the garbage left by the curb on Tuesday night. I caress my scars. Dream about him next to me. Feel him in the night tending them. Believe that he’s there. Then there’s light and the shower is still running. I leave it on even though the water bill is too high to pay. I like the sound of the water rushing over me. Let the water pour. Clean and hot and desensitizing, destroying prints and calluses,. "You scared of me too?" he asked."You, no," I shook my head. "That," I said, motioning towards his growing cock. "Definitely." Oh, it's harmless," Wayne said."Not when it's pummeling me into the bed, it sure is not," I shook my head.The elevator opened, and we walked into the corridor. "What if it doesn't pummel you," Wayne said with a grin. I knew exactly what he was thinking. He loved this sports bra."I don't know," I teased as I gripped the keycard in my hand. "It is lunchtime, after all.".