Pushing it off your arms, you feel her move against you, pressing her breasts against your face. All you can do is drink in the feel of her, the scent...of her being. You feel her own heart pulsing against you. Her breath is steady, if a bit shaky. Pulling back, she drags her hand down your stomach, tracing a line down to your waist band. With the same slow care, she unbuckles your pants and pulls them open. She guides you to lay down. Removing your shoes and socks, one at a time, she moves her. It was a close-up model of my open vagina with a model of Josh’s cock protruding from inside it. Larry was staring at it closely with a puzzled look on his face.“Is that modeled after your cock?” my husband asked as he pointed at the large black penis. I felt flush and knew that I was blushing profusely. I had to do something to distract Larry and get the conversation away from the sculptures. Josh started to explain to Larry about how he had made the statue.“Honey,” I interrupted, “Josh and I. More

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