As luck would have it I was looking directly at the bed in the next room. To my surprise I discovered that it was not a couple making love. Spread out...on the bed was a woman. I would guess in her early thirties like me. She had brown hair and a tanned complexion with contrasting tan lines. Her left hand was pulling at her breasts, while her right dipped into her pussy. Her head was thrown back and her pelvis thrust back and forth as she finger fucked herself. I felt I should go but something. The barrage of sex had seemingly trained her to be compliant, especially for Duane. The only pain she felt from him was emotional, and that was shame, embarrassment, and humiliation. He could make her cry out in those expressions that resulted in sheer bliss. In fact, it was beyond anything she had ever felt with her husband. That, alone, just added more to her debasement. How did a proper wife feel such joy in the arms of another man? Especially with one as young and immature such as him?. More

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