Before you make yourself crazy with suppositions and accusations, I would like you to pause and pay attention to how you feel at the mere suggestion of these possibilities. I go inside my house, and wait for him in my dining room. Guido moves closer and fumbles for my bra hook. He is in no hurry. I scream in pain, and that scream becomes a long moan of passion as he thrusts his cock in me without bothering to check if I am ready.
Guido takes maddeningly long time to cum and the moment is again preceded by a couple of light slaps on my rump. Guido does exactly that. Today I smile at him. He is standing right there. My husband has texted reminding me that we have to attend a rally in the town this afternoon. Take this time instead to explore your needs, hopes, wishes etc so you can reach a decision from a position of strength and understanding instead of a place of hurt or misunderstanding. He is dressed in a dirty white shirt, unbuttoned almost all the way to his hairless waist, and a pair of equally dirty and worn jeans. If this was just about sex, you would be thinking about sleeping with many other women. I pull him down and kiss him hard for one last time, before letting him out of the house. His hands are everywhere, on my stomach, on the flare of my hips, on my breasts. He is in no hurry. I am almost pinned to the bed in this position, and as Guido thrusts at a frantic pace, all that I can do is to let out long moans, and thrust my hips at him. In other words, it sounds to me like there is a promise in the possibility of a sexual relationship with your neighbor's wife that is absent to you in your own marriage. Yesterday he hung around in the same spot for about an hour before leaving. He looks, and hangs out with other Hispanic immigrants that throng the streets of my town lately. His hand moves on my slim neck and then rests on my top. My guess is that you don't like these ideas at all. I wish you the very best! I stand near the window and text him back while watching Guido walk away. He cups my white breast through my brassiere and then finally, oh sweet Lord finally, puts his lips on mine. I am afraid, Guido will see my breasts sag when he takes my bra off. He still does not kiss me. His arms are incredibly sinewy, the hardworking lifestyle he leads does not allow a lot of fat. Then he casually breaks away from his group, and walks to my house. Back to your question: I go inside my house, and wait for him in my dining room.
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