There is a story to be told about the desire behind what I heard. This inhale was meant to taste, not to merely smell. A sensory not to be deprived. I... notice the silhouette of my wife against the white walls, and her pants are pulled down to her thighs, her shirt is open, and that new liberal woman on her knees with her face buried in my wife's panties. I stand, I mentally adjust to the scene - remembering what I know, what I learned, telling myself not to do anything until you have a good. Well, I do agree with you, but-"Yeah, yeah. We physically don't have hands. Quit reminding me."Since you're literally just Dialogue personified, I don't see how you could forget that fact."Oh, well sor-ry. Not all of us are uber-coherent Narrators."Coherent? Huh... I think that's the closest thing to a compliment that I've ever gotten from you."Oops, I misspoke. What I meant to say was: Go fuck yourself."That's better."So, what are we doing here?"More Master PC stuff, only with shorter. "We had better get a move on Amanda ... if we want to reach London before this evening." I'm definitely going to try and get to the concert on Sunday Miranda ... I can't believe that I've been missing out all these years!" Amanda declared enthusiastically."We'll maybe see you there then." Miranda smiled happily. "But in the mean time, I hope that you have a good weekend with the family ... and all that," she added a little enviously.Marcus glanced at her thoughtfully but he was obviously. He knew that if he went to fast at first and scared her off, that he would never stand a chance of seeing his desires become a reality. He had formulated a plan of slowly incorporating the idea of watching her being with Black men during their dirty talk when they were having sex. He knew that this was the necessary first step in the evolution of his beautiful blonde wife, if she was to someday become the naughty slut of his dreams. Over the next few weeks, while eating her sweet pussy during.