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By (user no longer on site) OP
over a year ago
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Having chatted for a while online, we finally arranged to meet with Amanda at a hotel in Brighton. The attraction and chemistry had built up to fever pitch and we were practically twitching with excitement.
Rob, my husband was dressed in a crisp white shirt, dark suit and smelt of expensive aftershave. He lounged in the chair, watching me as I slipped on my stockings and described to me how the evening would progress. I reached for my panties, laid out on the bed but he told me to leave them. I slipped into my dress and sandals then walked over to him. Pushing up my dress, Rob slid a finger through my pussy, sending electric tingles straight up my spine and instantly stiffening my nipples. I bent down to kiss his mouth but he placed his finger, wet with my juices, up to my lips. Later Baby, he said. With that he stood up, grabbed his keys and let himself out of the room. I applied make up and perfume, tidied the room and then made my way down to the hotel foyer,
I took a seat at the bar and ordered a drink from the menu. My phone pinged inside my purse. A picture message from Rob - of a slender, well manicured hand clasped around a huge, hardened cock. I blushed and shivered with lust, closing my eyes to imagine just what was happening between my husband and our date in our car.
I had chosen to sit with a good view of the main door and within a short time Rob strolled through with Amanda. Wow I thought, he has very good taste in women. I hadn't seen her before but had trusted his judgement. She was tall, tanned with shoulder length dark hair. Dressed in a red silk dress, it skimmed her hourglass figure as she walked hand in hand with Rob over to my seat.
I bristled with tension, a wicked sense of jealousy and lust jangled through me as I was introduced to Amanda. We kissed briefly and found a quieter corner to sit down. I noticed with interest that Amanda sat close to Rob on the sofa and continued to hold his hand, smiling coyly at me through her downcast eyelashes...
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