I really wanted to think of my wife when we were having sex, I really did, but every time we started to make love, my mind went to Ashley, and how muc... I wanted to fuck her. My mind would wander to her smooth, creamy skin, and her small, petite frame. I imagine her pussy being shaved just for me, and being tight, but accommodating my girth nicely. In my fantasies, Ashley and I would have this amazing connection, she would scream my name, and tell me how big I was, and tell me how much better I. She never really woke up when she cried, and she didn't exactly sob, not so as you'd really hear her, but it always woke him up. He'd roll over and look at her face; the shadows on her skin were always different depending on the phase of the moon or the clouds in the sky or the number of cars driving by their suburban home, but she was always beautiful.Tears shown on her cheeks in the faint light that drifted through the bedroom curtains. He never knew exactly how to help her, how to calm her. More

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