I could see the silouette of him on top of her thrusting into her missionary, her legs fully open receiving his black manhood. They kissed slowly and ...assionately and she whimpered with each slow thrust. I could see her occasionally glance over and look at me smiling with lust in her eyes to make sure her drunk man was still passed out. "Relax momma he's not waking up, he's drunk and he never has to know." With that he slapped me firmly across the arm. I was frozen, couldn't respond, unable to. Waking up horny was a very new experience for me. Hell, I never even became horny unless my husband played with my nipples and clit. It was cold and windy that Saturday morning in February. Ralph had left the night before to spend the weekend at the lake, ice fishing with his buddies. My husband’s name isn’t Ralph, but we’ll call him that. I mean, he doesn’t read erotica but his friend do and I don’t want to risk having one of them see these confessions and tell him about my nine-month horny. More

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