I couldn’t take my eyes off of her as she worked. Her behind with those red panties were literally sexual art! She was finished and we sat at our table, me with a glass of ice tea and Michelle a diet coke when Ginger and Eric arrived. We both went to the door and gave them a little hug when we invited them in. Ginger was wearing a pair of tight slacks and a purple, satin blouse with fluffs on the line of buttons. When I hugged her, I couldn’t resist innocently running my hand across her back, detecting that she obviously wasn’t wearing a bra. She had a nice looking salad and Eric had a couple bottles of red wine. Neither Michelle or I were particularly fond of wine but we’d drink it to be sociable. As little alcohol as we drank, it didn’t take very much, even wine, to make us both a little tipsy. I noticed that Eric’s eyes were clearly focused on my wife, exactly where I’d hoped they’d be for much of the evening. We sat them down at the table on one side, with our chairs on the. He told me to lean back and I got my hair wet and rinsed my face. He shampooed my hair and had me lay down again to rinse it. His touch was firm and he worked like a doctor, working to erase my sweat and tears as well as Mistress Sylvia’s juices. As soon as he was satisfied that my head and face were clean, he kissed me very deeply and hungrily. He pressing his tongue inside my mouth and held the back of my head. I kissed him back and lightly chewed on his lip. I longed to press my body against his. He broke the kiss and began soaping up the cloth again. He washed my shoulders and breasts, paying particular attention to each nipple. He pinched them and twisted them. He pulled them toward his body. He pulled the right side and spanked hard as he began to question me. “Whose is this, slave?” “It is yours, Master.” The slaps were slow and deliberate. I fought to keep my voice steady. “Let me see the other one.” I pressed it toward his body and he gave it the same treatment. The tits had.
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