They met every Tuesday night, at Connie’s house.“Connie?” I asked, trying to act like I didn’t know who.“You know” she replied, adding an ...ye-roll. “Connie… Connie and Stan.”“Oh Yea” I said. “I remember.”“anyway” my wife continued, “They meet at Connie’s house every Tuesday night. You don’t mind, do you? Should only be a couple of hours.”“Sure” I said, very nonchalantly. I then began to wonder what was really going on and how I would find out.I gave it a lot of thought and figured that if my. Steve looked down at her, no pretense, and Heather went slippery at the gleam in his eyes. It was so fucking flattering that he had carried his fantasy all these years, and damn arousing, too, and she loved it as he looked her up and down.He stepped closer, hands on her waist, then he slowly moved them upwards and cupped her tits. Heather moaned, feeling like school girl, only now she knew so much more.He started in on her dress, peeling it off her shoulders. He stared at the swell of her. More

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