With exaggerated patience, the lover’s hands continue their journey southwards along your wife’s taut stomach, still untouched by childbirth, ligh...tly stroking those ticklish, sensitive areas you know and love so well. Down and down those fingers travel, and with slow inevitability, they come to that holiest-of-holy’s; to the rose garden that you claim by right as her husband. These are not your fingers, and yet your wife finds herself responding as she does with you. The fingers rub the soft. She smiled to herself content and happy with her life. “Pull yourself together and get stuck into that fridge” she chided herself. Of course as they had been so busy in the bedroom and most of the other rooms of the house, the cleaning had slipped a little behind and Fran had decided today was for cleaning or at least the morning. She had emptied the shelves of the fridge and was now bending in there cleaning the shelves. That was how he found her when he came into the kitchen for a drink.. "Oh my god," she whispered. "I have craved this so badly." I didn't say a word I just kissed her harder. Her moans were becoming squeals and quick spasms of gasping. Gently lifting my lips off hers I moved to right beneath her left ear and gently placed a kiss. I saw her eyes shut from my peripheral. Working my way down to her collarbone, I kept my right hand at her hip, teasing her thigh here and there. Danielle's nipples were hard as they passed my chest. I let my nose nearly touch the bottom. He was tall and thin with Black hair shaved almost to his head. His facial features were all wonky like he had been in one too many fights in his life, he watched me as I watched him, a smile on his lips that seemed sinister to say the least. The shorter man was around my height, and looked more than double my age. He was a stocky and his belly clearly created a shadow over his jeans. His hair line was receding and his face showed signs of wrinkling but his expression seemed playful, his eyes.