Her kids were in the church day care, but her husband, Henry, was no where to be seen. Paul flagged her down and outright asked her what was up. He knew that her marriage had been falling apart. Henry had turned into a drunk, not an abusive drunk, she didn't need saving, but he was unreliable and a horrific liar. Henry hadn't been in the house for over 2 years, but in recent months had been making a go of turning his life around. Melissa had caught him drunk again, getting ready to drive the kids back to his parents house that week and Henry had disappeared from her life again. She was hurt, scared, and pissed all at once. They had been speaking in the vestibule between the sanctuary and the patio outside, she gave a conspiratorial glance around and suddenly Melissa grabbed Paul's hand and led him outside. The service started while they chatted outside and the stream of people that had been passing them to enter the service turned into a trickle, then completely disappeared. It was. This was something Catherine and I had discussed be forehand and had prepared for. During what I suppose now I should call our normal relations,Catherine would sometimes give me a signal that she was in the mood for sex. This was a compensatory initiative following our discussion in Paris, and I found it worked for me. When I returned from the office and went to our bedroom to change, I would find a pair of blue panties on my pillow. Over dinner when Peter was at home all it needed was a smile to acknowledge that I had received the message and was looking forward to bed time. Then, as part of our foreplay, Catherine would fold the panties round my cock and bring me to readiness. Now, as I watched Michael and Catherine begin their serious endeavours, I took these same blue panties from my pocket, unzipped myself and began to masturbate with them. My cock was hard and needed careful treatment. My eyes never left the action taking place on the bed a few feet in front of me. ‘Fuck me.
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