Their chatter hid the quiet mutters of the live prospects who walked into our Open House three hours early. Startled by a small sound, I turned and sa...w two people had broached the nearly closed door. A well-rounded, tall man with a short, thick beard stood next to a petite and very pretty young woman in tiny blue shorts and a blue, half-open hoody. Their eyes were wide open and fixed on the TV where my wife's moist, lusty pussy filled the big screen.Others were squeezing into the foyer and. Then he sat down in front of her on his knees and grabbed her waist and turned her around.He could see stretch marks over her belly, meaning she had been pregnant sometime.“Your belly is beautiful,” he told her.“What?” she asked.“Your belly... it's just so beautiful... with these patterns,” he began running his fingers over her stretch marks.“You... you really think so?”“Absolutely,” Danny said before planting his lips on her belly button and giving a deep kiss.He kissed all around her belly. But at the same time carried a heavy emotional tariff, far beyond anything purely physical.The word that buzzed into my head and wouldn’t stop flashing was ‘masochist’. Was this me? Not a pleasant thought to contemplate in some ways. No-one ever likes to think of themselves as being a masochist, associated as it is with all kinds of ideas of self-harm and low self-esteem. But a nagging voice at the back of my head forced me to confront the possibility.How else could I explain my enjoyment of. I wanted to know how you felt about it, and if you are uncomfortable, I would avoid meeting her.”So, the ex-boyfriend of my fiancé was asking me if I had any problem in him taking her out for dinner. Of course, I did. If I was using the rational part of my mind, I would have objected. But the urge to appear mature and in control got the better of me.“Sure, Jude. I don't have any problem. After all, it’s just dinner. Are you planning to invite Denise too?”“As you know, Denise and Mary don’t get.