The next few moments are something of a blur. I remember my fingers and lips sliding over sweat-slick curves. I remember a nipple hardening in my mout.... I remember her sitting naked on the edge of the stupidly big desk. Legs spreading. Dark curls and inviting pink lips. Fingernails scratching down my taut chest and abdomen. A finger teasing the tip of my cock. I remember my body pressing down on hers as she lay back on the desk, and I remember the tight, warm, velvet sensation as I slid myself. He was mostly interested in himself.He always had to pick out my clothes and explain to me how he wanted me to look. He liked me to be made up and liked me to wear very tight fitting clothes that were revealing. He liked showing me off. I always felt like an object or a very special trophy. He liked that his friends and co-workers thought I was very beautiful. It was important that I was hot looking. He wanted people to be jealous and want me. That was very important to my husband. I felt more. More

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