She explained that she was getting worried about picking guys up in such public places as we live in a relatively small town she was worried about get...ing spotted, she wanted me to take her out in the evening to a different town so she could get dressed to the nines and have a few drinks whilst selecting her next stud, I was stunned this was not the Alison that I had married, she went on to tell me she often had fantasised about being a trollop and now that I had given her the excuse she was. I am a good, Muslim woman.”“Right,” I said. “A good, Muslim woman who shoved a sparkling grape juice bottle into her pussy.”She squeezed her eyes closed. “I ... was masturbating.”“Clearly,” I said, moving to the bed. She lay on it, her legs in exam stirrups, spread apart, a hospital gown covering her.“I just ... wanted to try something ... thicker.” She shivered. “And my husband has not been ... attentive. He works hard. And ... You mustn’t tell him. He can’t know the shameful things I do when. More

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