Not that I didn’t encourage her to do that. She loved to fuck, but insisted she could always wait for me to fuck her when I got home.Well, the inevi...able happened and she caught me fucking another woman. We split up, no divorce, just a separation. While we were separated, I visited her a lot while trying to patch things up. One Saturday morning about 11am I went to her appartment, and she answered the door in her robe. Now she is not a late sleeper, so I was wondering why she wasn’t dressed.. At first repulsed by the suggestion, she later relented, and said she would consider it, if everything felt right at the time. There was hope for cautious optimism. I told him I would email him when I knew I was going to be staying in his city.Two months later I found I was going to be in town, and let him know. Turned out I would be free for about sixteen hours after my work duties. He got back to me and said they would meet me at my hotel lounge for drinks, just to see how it goes. I was. “That’s for asking me to pay the taxi for you,” said John, as the third slap accompanied his words. The pain shot through me and excited me at the same time. I found myself asking why Richard had not spanked me earlier. “Go upstairs, take your dress off and in your best slutty pose I want you to kneel on the edge of the bed facing the door,” he instructed, “I want you to wait – to be fucked!” I was panting, my arse stung like it was on fire and my eyes were half shut and what’s more, I had been. I was losing control: laughing and squealing protest, wincing at how ticklish I was back there but also gasping at the pleasure of it. So good; so fucking good to have a tongue back there. “Put your finger in,” I said, adding a little steel to my voice. I felt the hard digit move up, a sharp contrast from the soft wetness of his tongue; felt the slickness of his saliva; felt the pressure and then the penetration. I moaned loudly, it was so satisfying to feel his finger worming into my arse..
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