I press the button, letting the window slide down. She crouches down, peering in. Her face is strangely doll-like, framed by a blonde bob cut. “Wher... are you heading?” she asks. “Where are you going?” “Home.” “And where’s home?” She tells me. “Hop in.” And we’re driving through open farmland, headlamps sweeping across fields, fauna dashing hither and thither in the glow. My hand is on the gear stick, my mind on the black nylon stretched tightly across her firm thighs. “So what’s the story?” I. After about twenty minutes Kel and the guy returned. The barkeep had held their spots so I was still in good viewing position. I did notice that Kel’s blouse had a couple of buttons undone and her lacy bra was in pretty good view. I can’t tell you why but I got a raging hard on watching my wife a little disheveled and slightly moist from dancing getting hit on by this guy.Mistake #5: The BIG one. I was still discreetly massaging the wood club in my pants when Kel got up, as if excusing. More

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