The Girl I Call She

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Self Shot

I didn’t really look at my husband at first. My eyes fixated on her – on those pretty young cheekbones and pert lips, with not a wrinkle or blemish daring to tarnish her silky skin.She couldn’t have been more than twenty, with long slim legs and a bust that defied her petite frame and elfin waist. I hated her for it. Any woman would’ve done.I thought of my own tits – he’d always loved them. But she was at least a cup size bigger and without a saggy stretch mark in sight. They were real, too – I could tell by the way they leapt back and forth like loose blancmanges as he fucked her.She looked undeniably beautiful with her slender, gazelle-like shape bucking back and forth, blue eyes gazing adoringly up at my husband as she lay sprawled across my kitchen table with her legs spread.I wanted to shout out – to call her a whore, a slut and a bitch.That’s my fucking husband you’ve got inside you!But I didn’t. I just stood there, silently watching, trembling, my mind whirring over and over.He pulled out of her and for a second I got to stare at her as she lay fully exposed. Her petals flared in full bloom, their thick pink folds flourishing like a flower embracing its moment in the sun. And such was the attention she’d received, her immaculate florets glistened wet – all proudly engorged. I’d never shaved my cunt. He’d always told me that that I didn’t need to – but hers was completely bald, allowing her labia to protrude unhindered with a youthful flourish and a bolshie, knowing flair.He ducked down and started eating her. güvenilir bahis She giggled, in that way young girls think men will adore – and they probably do – and then started to moan with emboldened theatrics as she reached out a willowy arm and stroked the back of my husband’s head.Oh, how your ego must love that, my darling.My stomach churned. He did still eat me. He was a good man, an attentive man. I know how lucky I am. But he ate for love when he was with me – which was so very different from the way he was devouring the girl on my table. With her, it was an act which bore a greater resemblance to a man long starved of more exotic delicacies. His tongue worked ferociously, desperately, keenly – his groans deeper, hungrier, needier.She came. He made her cum. She wasn’t faking it. A woman knows, regardless of her noisy theatrics. My husband was giving her his best.They kissed as he stood back up. She reached for him, throwing her lithe arms around his neck and embracing him with all the passion of a girl getting to fulfil all her deepest inner fantasies with a man over twice her age.He was groaning more loudly now, with his hands fondling her beautiful firm breasts. His mouth roved across her, nibbling her ear before kissing her delicate, ostrich-like neck.She knew what he wanted. She cupped each heaving bosom in her dainty fingers, offering each breast up to him in turn, with doe eyes full of dutiful longing. It was galling to watch. My stomach churned. But I couldn’t turn away. I had to see it all, to observe güvenilir bahis siteleri her magnificence. It seemed bad enough that she could have such a slim waist, but then having to gaze on her large, full breasts as she struggled to contain each fleshy orb in her open cupped palms – that was delicious agony.Perhaps that was her intent – to display her majesty as the swell of each imperious bosom overflowed and cascaded over the sides of her little hands, leaving her soft pink areola expanding across her palms as her perky nipples pointed keenly upwards.She’d not had children. Her tummy hugged her frame with toned perfection, her nipples stood proud and un-ravaged, her pussy fresh and untarnished. I suddenly felt an astonishing sense of pride in my husband for his accomplishment. She was a staggeringly attractive young woman, and this delicate, immaculate beauty adored him.When he’d finished his gratuitous appreciation of her perfect breasts his hands suddenly clasped her slender waist. He scooped her up – something my more buxom size had always prevented, and lifted her easily from my kitchen table before dropping her down and bending her over its wooden top. It was only then that I noticed her seamed stockings and the implausibly tall heels she teetered effortlessly in.He slapped her ass. She cried out and begged him to do it again. Please, Daddy!He did. Several times. She really liked it. She’s his good girl, apparently, and why wouldn’t she be when she’s got butt cheeks as firm and round as iddaa siteleri the freshest, most unblemished peach?I sensed the culmination approaching. I snatched a glimpse at my husband’s cock. He was throbbing, pulsatingly huge, for her. He mounted her, clutching her waist and rolling his head back in triumph as he does so. A rumbled groan was emitted, like thunder rolling from a moody sky. It’s the sort that came all the way from the trunk of his cock and spoke of the tightness of the young pussy he had just forced his way into.How long has it been since you felt that sort of tightness, my darling? It must be fifteen years, at least.He reached down her slender, arched back and snatched a clump of her pretty blonde locks in his fist. Her head lurched backwards under the duress and she gurgled with delight. And then he thrust. At first, it was slow but extremely firm – each hip drive a singular battering that shuddered her thighs against my kitchen table. There was a pained squeak as the wooden legs shunted over the kitchen tiles under the duress of their screwing.I felt so jealous of her, of the way she could elicit my husband’s very best – of how she could bring forth the aggression that he was unleashing on her. Each piston-like gyration of his hips smashed into her elfin frame with ferocious passion. She yelped, screamed, and hollered with delight. Her long slender arms reached up my table as her perfectly manicured fingers desperately clutched the sides for support.I felt another gut-churning swell of pride;I love you! Bastard, that you are, I love you!He climaxed. I knew he was going to. That’s what I have left – knowing him the way only a wife of twenty years can know her husband, regardless of whether what he’s doing is with another, much younger woman. 

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