There were also a couple of easy chairs and a couple of substantial benches. I had an idea or two how the latter could be used.While Sandy and I had been looking around Tracy and John had stripped and were in the process of helping us to get naked. I soon paid attention to Tracy and what she was doing. While Tracy normally didn't wear baggy clothes, neither did she wear clothes that were skin tight. I had a pretty good idea of what she would look like naked and I wasn't disappointed – in fact I was more than pleasantly surprised to see just how firm and shapely she was. Her breasts, in particular, were very firm with large aureoles and her nipples were already hard. I looked at her pussy and saw that she had kept it neatly trimmed. I couldn't wait to get my tongue in between those lips.By now, Tracy had stripped me and taking my hand, led me over to one of the futons. She sank down on her back onto the futon and in a low voice murmured to me "Come on, do me."I was only too happy to. And part of that relationship is her offer of the choice, and my decision to stay, every time. Early on, of course, I entertained the idea of leaving. But I imagined life without her, minus the close companionship, minus her supportive friendship, her easy familiarity with me. Her acceptance of me for who I am, and my acceptance of her. I tried to see myself without the love I feel and was unable. I tried to see myself living without the thrill and excitement she provides and find I am unwilling. So even in the early days, when there was bitterness and rebellion, anger and hostility, I would stay. Back then I would sometimes sulk and pout, or at least try to. But she always won me over. She closed the door and came to my chair, running her hand through my hair, caressing my head and cooing soft soothing sounds. "Who's my dirty boy?" she asked, kissing the top of my head. "Hmm? Who's my perverted nasty boy? Who loves his dirty wife?" "Me," I whispered, "you know it’s me." Our.
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