Oh fuck". Her body twitched again, violently, and she let out a loud, long moan. Both her hands were holding onto his forearm, his hand still tigh... against her pussy. Finally my wife pushed herself back from the edge of the table, freeing her pussy from his probing hand. She was breathing heavy, her chest heaving, her tits swaying, sweat was visibly forming on her face and chest. "No more of that", my wife said, and for a minute I thought it was over. My relief was short-lived though. It didn’t take long to find the journal. It was in his underwear drawer, shoved in the back. So unoriginal. He’s smart, not creative. I skimmed through until I found what I was looking for… the entry on our little conversation. I read it and my heart jumped through my throat.“So, my sister and I finally talked about our ‘situation’ from New Years that I mentioned in my previous entry. It went really well! We chalked it up as a misunderstanding and we are back to our same old selves.I couldn’t. More

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