At least he never made me swallow, I guess because he liked to see his cum smeared on my lips and cheeks. "Show me my load", he'd say and I'd have to ...pen my mouth so he could see it pooled there. I really didn't like the taste or smell but he never gave me a choice--cumming in my mouth was his idea of a "real blowjob". And he always made me kiss his wet cock goodbye, which often led to a second sucking--"Make me hard again", he'd say. It sometimes took a long time, lots of sucking, but he. Watching him stand in my doorway, tie untangled, shirt unbuttoned, distraught at being at work all day playing the part of the good little husband he is all too good at playing, when he'd rather be with me wrapped in my arms and legs, inhaling my scent as if it would be the last breath he'd take... Iris put down her pen. She hated thinking about him. She hated how as soon as the fantasies stopped, and she was able to stop thinking about him, he'd show up at her door step again, as if he was. More

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