I squeezed a ribbon of the clear gel across my cock like I was slapping mustard on a brat at the ballpark. Jesus, it felt good, stroking my greasy coc... for her.“Am I doing it right?” I asked her, and I knew I was because her eyes were locked on my hand, sliding up and down my slick pole, and I could hear her breathing becoming louder as she continued to play with herself, punctuated every so often by sharp little gasps as she watched me thrust my hips and stroke my aching shaft.“Yes,” she. I didn’t want to know their names. I’m married to you but there’s some demon in me that has to prove something. Andy I don’t even know any more.’ A few days lying here with it hurting to breathe is good for the soul but I still don’t know why I did all those things. It’s like a disease, once I get started I can’t think of anything except the next cock. The feeling goes on and on and builds and builds until there’s a kind of crisis, like a fever, and then it breaks and I have to repent. I have. More

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