She is beautiful. And her body is just about perfect. As she slips out of her nightgown, I can see in the light of the nightstand that her breasts are upturned, expectant. Her navel is a finicky dip of an affair. Her waist is perfect - I can see her panties are already wet. I put the glass of wine and let out a slow whistle. She looks at me coyly, yet I can see that she is feeling shy. Her lips are petulant, and I can see the corners of her mouth rise as she smiles. The moonlight reflects off her perfectly formed shoulders, and I see the elegant curves gesturing to me unconsciously. The bend in her elbow. The soft flicking of her wrists as I offer her my glass. She sips a little, and then climbs into bed with me. It is a long night. We make slow, passionate love - our bodies warm with pleasure, and then we fall apart, exhausted with all the feverish lovemaking.Good God,you were amazing, I compliment her.
Was I? Thank God. I haven't made love to anyone in a decade. My faggot of a husband never looks at my body. You are very good in bed. I take it you are experienced already. She smiles as she rests her head on my chest and strokes my belly.
I look away. What are you doing,Ayan?
