The sex was fine. Over the years we had tried just about everything and openly discussed what each of us liked and didn't like. I was happy with her s...exual performance and I assumed that she was ok with mine. Life was good. The future was bright. It was bright until we had the night talk.Normally when we go to bed, we do one of two things: have sex or go to sleep. We have never lain in bed with the lights out and discussed personal matters of any type. It was a routine for which we both seemed. The following night I got off work later than usual because of a mandatory meeting that everyone had to attend and while driving home a text from Lia appeared on my phone that read : Hurry home sexy , I’m waiting for you :. I entered the house to find candles burning, soft music playing and Lia sitting on the couch in the living room drinking a glass of wine wearing a short black night gown. It was obvious that she had something in mind but I did not feel the need to inquire what it was as I. Erotic writers can be quite imaginative in bed. I didn't mind, she seemed to find it naughty and forbidden. That was what mattered: how we were free to be ourselves, to say and do whatever we wanted. I never held back a thought or a question, never lied to her, never gave her only half of an answer. There was only one time when this complete freedom led to an argument."Did you know wedding rings leave marks?" I asked her one day, not long after that first time—it must have been on our third. His hands kneaded her ass; it didn't even seem like he could control what they were doing. They were moving frantically all over her ass and legs."hhaaa, hhhaaa" he was breathing so hard. She sat back and squeezed his head with her arm around his neck and pulled him in onto her shoulder. He was kind of lying down and pushed his dick down so that it was sticking up between her legs pressed against her wet pussy. His penis just started jerking and dancing against those lovely grey leggings."Look.