” It was a dismissal, I knew that, and mumbling my thanks and promising once more that I’d quit smoking right away, I retreated. * Becca had gone out, so I went to bed early that evening and managed to quit smoking for all of four hours. By then, I was nervous like hell, and the only thing I could think about was to get another fag. I had thrown away my pack of cigarettes right away, but now I found myself walking the mile to the gas station for replenishment. My gut was in a twist, but the first drag soothed my nerves like nothing else, and I smoked two over the short walk back. I stepped into the living room to find Becca spread out on the leather couch and watching a movie, wearing comfy white shorts, a tank top of the same fabric and cute white ankle socks, and I somehow couldn’t suppress the wave of guilt that welled up, feeling like a child caught with the hand in the cookie jar. “Hi, Miranda!” “Ugh, hi! You’re home early.” “I had to visit a friend’s gallery opening, but her. She wasn’t making eye contact with me. Her perfume was discrete and rather pleasant.“Come on in, make yourself at home,” I said while guiding them to the living room. I shook hands with the husband but the wife went straight to the living room. Guessing that they had a Dominant/submissive relationship, I didn’t insist on shaking her hand and decided to let the husband call the shots.The wife looked at her husband and waited for his command. He ordered: “Baby, take off your shirt, kneel down and take his shorts off.”She obeyed while the husband started recording from his camcorder, which he had previously set on a tripod, and taking pictures. She had small beautiful breasts with pierced nipples and a small tattoo on her right arm.She looked at my cock from underneath as if she was worshipping it. My long, hard throbbing cock was dominating her. She slowly inserted it into her mouth and gently placed her hands around the shaft, moaning. Our eyes locked for the first time; the intensity.
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