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Spent and exhilarated, I'd photographed her peppered pussy with my phone and sent the tribute back. She emailed in return an hour later and said she'd masturbated hard in the bathroom to the picture when she should have been working. Said she was worried the neighbours in the garden might have heard her through the open window, but she couldn't help it, spilling over.Attached to the email were an audio file and a photo of her knickers in a crude figure eight on the bathroom floor. The navy and white polka dot pattern was punctuated with dark wet patches and splotches of creamy come criss-crossing the gusset. I had immediate visions of picking them up, still warm, and eating her silky juices from them. And as I listened to her wet ministrations and desperate moans on loop, it set me off again to spend another hour edging myself to eventual climax.We're bad for one another, there's no denying it. But it's beyond thrilling, our marital sex lives simply pedestrian in comparison.The. You said that you needed to talk to me, and it’s the middle of the night there. Is everything okay? Are you okay?” I could hear the worry in her voice, mirrored by the look on her face.For a split second, I considered saying what I’d been planning to say. That I couldn’t cope with their relationship anymore. That my fears and worries were swamping my enjoyment and that I wanted them to stop.But I knew, after what Francis had just said, I couldn’t come out and say this. Not now. Not like this. Thinking on my feet I quickly made up a white lie to explain my call and put Sue’s mind at rest.“It’s nothing really, Sue. I just couldn’t sleep. Work’s been driving me crazy here and I just wanted to talk to someone about it. But it can wait.”“Are you sure, honey?”“Yes, sweetheart. I’m sure.”I was sure that it would have to wait for another day. After what Francis had said, there was no way I could say what I was going to say.There was silence between us. Neither of us knowing what to say after.
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