Wifes Soft Bouncing Tits

Sam had driven back to Boston and had a drink, and then turned on the TV trying to grapple with the pain of his male ego collapse. Today at the Hyatt bar 10 years later, he remembered that night vividly even after all the time. Back then, 20 minutes after he arrived at their Boston apartment, Susan was pounding on their apartment door. Sam went to the door and said, ‘Go away, Susan, you are not welcome here.’ She had said, ‘Sam please, what you saw meant nothing. You are all that is important to me…’ and on and on. To make a long story short, Sam forgave her after her tearful counseling and both got back to work and forgot her perfidy as she was immediately transferred to the Boston Branch and became close. She shortly became branch manager. Tonight, at the Hyatt bar, Sam smiled as he had forgotten what it was like to feel no pain when a woman one cares nothing for chooses to fuck around. His rationale was that, ‘there is a thin line between doing it and wanting to do it.’ He still. Awkward silence followed. In that short moment, he kept staring at me as though I was guilty of something. But there also was a mischief in his eyes that he wouldn't show in his facial expression. "Here," he handed it to me. I reach for the leather jacket. Our fingers brushed. And I was turned on. "Gee," I mumble, not meeting his gaze. "Thanks," I say, being sarcastic. Of course, he wouldn't want to talk about earlier. Heck, he didn't want to talk of any of the similar things that have happened earlier between the both of us. Not the constant eye staring, not the chest staring, not the staring of lips, not the flirting that we both took for granted as well as a joke. "I guess I should go," he starts. "Yeah, you really should." I purse my lips. He brushes past me. I look down at the floor. Ugh. What if we could only do something just once? I felt the urge to ask him, but it wouldn't be wise to—he had a wife and I had a boyfriend of almost a year. I gulped. "Hey, Lauren?" asks.
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