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His pants were bunched up around his ankles where they had obviously been pushed. He still had his shirt on but my wifes jeans were completely off her...legs and lying at her feet in a jumble. Her plain, white bikini panties were all scrunched up around one ankle. Her flannel shirt was opened and her breasts (still in her bra) were being squashed down by his chest. Her hands and arms were lying by her side with her palms facing up. Chris had his face buried in the crook of her neck and my wife. I wondered if I gave her enough time could she finish? I could picture her coming apart in my chair. Her smooth flushed skin, her husky little voice whimpering. Fuck, I could smell her arousal. I had to adjust again. ‘So, Anya? That’s an unusual name.’ Anything to stop my wayward thinking. ‘It’s Russian. My great grandparents are from there.’ ‘Oh that’s cool. We’re just about done.’ I finished the rest of the piece and cleaned her up. ‘Damn, girl. That’s tight. Wanna see it before I wrap it. More

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