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5-STAR POSTS!!     |
18/02/2010
So, since my last post I have followed her, to the neighbor’s house, when she left in the dark for her morning “run.”
She set off running down the alley, but then stopped at his gate, and after checking to see if anyone could see, she went into his yard. I ran quietly as I could down the alley and into his yard. She had already let herself in and so I snuck up to the back porch to see, from behind the leafless lilac bush, and she was there in his kitchen – her running shoes were on the table, and I saw her peeling off her sweatshirt and then pulling off her shorts. Naked now, she disappeared into the darkness of the house. Though my suspicions have been strong, I am overwhelmed by what I see, the absolute fact of it. I have seen her naked in his house! I stay. I walk around the house which has laurel all around, and so neighbors cannot see me there. There are no lights on in any room, but at one window I hear voices, a laugh, hers. But then it goes quiet. I linger and listen and hear the occasional indiscernible word, the sound of the bed bouncing, and then half hour into it the familiar moan, groan, and grunt of my wife's response. I have to get back home, but I have a desire to see her emerge from the house. As if I needed more confirmation.
I've watched her go and undress in his kitchen two more times since then, I don't know, because I can't, or don't want to, believe it? And I listened at the window those times too. Once she was very loud at the end and that just killed me. Then she comes back home twenty minutes later. Why twenty more minutes? Was she running to work up a sweat to look like she'd been out on a real run? Because they lie naked together like lovers in their after-glow, cooing and snuggling? That bothers me as much as the fuck.
"How was your run?" I ask, and she tells me it was great, that she sprinted at the end. And she heads for the shower....and I sneak to check her clothing and none of it is damp with sweat, just the crotch of her running shorts. There are no panties.
And I imagine, and it turns my stomach, the two of them, how she must raise her legs to him, their nakedness together after. Her lingering those twenty minutes because she doesn't want to leave. Or because he wants himself hard again, and her mouth on him, compliant.
When she's out of the shower she comes wrapped in a towel to the kitchen, "Oh, you made coffee, you're a doll," she says. She's happy and beautiful and she comes to me, kisses me and says "Good morning," musses my hair playfully and goes to get dressed.
FUCK MY WIFE!
CLICK BELOW TO FIND A BULL
She set off running down the alley, but then stopped at his gate, and after checking to see if anyone could see, she went into his yard. I ran quietly as I could down the alley and into his yard. She had already let herself in and so I snuck up to the back porch to see, from behind the leafless lilac bush, and she was there in his kitchen – her running shoes were on the table, and I saw her peeling off her sweatshirt and then pulling off her shorts. Naked now, she disappeared into the darkness of the house. Though my suspicions have been strong, I am overwhelmed by what I see, the absolute fact of it. I have seen her naked in his house! I stay. I walk around the house which has laurel all around, and so neighbors cannot see me there. There are no lights on in any room, but at one window I hear voices, a laugh, hers. But then it goes quiet. I linger and listen and hear the occasional indiscernible word, the sound of the bed bouncing, and then half hour into it the familiar moan, groan, and grunt of my wife's response. I have to get back home, but I have a desire to see her emerge from the house. As if I needed more confirmation.
I've watched her go and undress in his kitchen two more times since then, I don't know, because I can't, or don't want to, believe it? And I listened at the window those times too. Once she was very loud at the end and that just killed me. Then she comes back home twenty minutes later. Why twenty more minutes? Was she running to work up a sweat to look like she'd been out on a real run? Because they lie naked together like lovers in their after-glow, cooing and snuggling? That bothers me as much as the fuck.
"How was your run?" I ask, and she tells me it was great, that she sprinted at the end. And she heads for the shower....and I sneak to check her clothing and none of it is damp with sweat, just the crotch of her running shorts. There are no panties.
And I imagine, and it turns my stomach, the two of them, how she must raise her legs to him, their nakedness together after. Her lingering those twenty minutes because she doesn't want to leave. Or because he wants himself hard again, and her mouth on him, compliant.
When she's out of the shower she comes wrapped in a towel to the kitchen, "Oh, you made coffee, you're a doll," she says. She's happy and beautiful and she comes to me, kisses me and says "Good morning," musses my hair playfully and goes to get dressed.
 TAKE MY WIFE |
 FUCK ME |
Poster:
bill