He was an average looking guy, close-cropped salt and pepper hair, I figured about fifty years old or so, with a slight belly. His cock was about six ...nches and on the slim side. I started to get hard again the closer I got.I stopped a couple of inches in front of him and my hand reached down to fondle his warm cock. He returned the favor and began stroking mine. He leaned in and kissed me, our lips met and parted, he slipped his tongue into my mouth. His hand left my cock and he pulled me into. In confessionals, they’ve heard it all. Fessing to it, allowed him to think he was monitoring my sex life, a sex life limited to kissing, excluding "petting" and Vixen's pleasures, lies of omission.I "befriended" him by seeking his advice. In the confessional, I explained I had confusion over how to be a good wife. He loved providing guidance on being married and being a wife even though he never was either. Summed up, his curator's advice was; obey my husband, sex is good if for procreation,. More

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