I ask the husband if I can dance with his wife. If he says yes then I know I've probably read them right. I make sure the wife feels my big hard cock ...hile we're dancing, and I let my hands wander over her body. I make sure the husband sees me feeling his wife up on the dance floor. Sometimes I get a slap in the face, or the husband tells me to get lost. Most times, though, the husband buys me a drink, and moves over so his pretty wife can sit between him and me at the bar. At that point I know. It had been two weeks since he’d touched her and the marks were almost gone. She knew every one of those marks, exactly where they had been on her arse cheeks, how they had darkened and then faded to yellow. With her eyes closed she recalled his hands on her, then his ruler, then his cock. She mourned the passing of his marks, even as her body responded to the precious memory. ‘There you are!’ She jumped at his voice and turned away from the wall. He stood between her and her towel. ‘Did you. More

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