I don’t like drama, and a dramatic fuelled man is far from appealing, it’s like signing up to take on someone with emotional hypochondria. Anyway... like I say, his loss. Now I am ready to move on and I’m all up and ready to get on with it. My bed has been empty for far too long. So, I am prepared tonight to find his replacement. I’m sat in bed, lap top on my knee, a Friends DVD playing in the background, sipping my glass of wine. I have my cheese and crackers on the bedside table in case I am. I start to pull my foreskin up and down. Because it feels better when my palm touches my cockhead, I spit into my hand now and then. I start slowly but with force, but when my wife starts to speed up her rubbing and starts to moan louder, I also speed up my movements. We are both lying on the wooden couches, heads are now more backwards against the walls, our hands playing with ourselves. I have my eyes closed and I assume my wife also. But her moaning, the sounds of rubbing and jerking and the. More

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