She eagerly anticipated an urgent thrust inside her as her husband Travis often did when he wanted her but John did not, allowing his soft tongue to pulse and prod every pour of her aroused skin; she wanted him desperately as every anxious nerve in her body pleaded yes but John teased her on.

It was the champagne that she could blame it on but her wetness was a witness to the lie.

 Lynette’s fantasies always told her that a bed with silk sheets was cheating but the top…