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The first few nights sleep had been fitful but my wife said I wouldsettle and I had to my surprise. The single bed if anything seemedquite big now and the deep pink cotton sheet and matching duvet seemedif anything familiar and comforting. And as for those reoccurringdreams which left me blushing,well that's another story."May I come in Jemma?" came the call from the stairs, stopping mymeandering daydreams in their tracks. Even the name Jemma was the newnormal.Well I had won that battle. She. Realising there wasn’t enough room, his hands were large like his fathers, he began to slide her jeans down as she lifted her backside up, all the while her heart beating fast in her chest. All at once she remembered the knickers she was wearing and cringed as she remembered the solitary yellow bow on the front of them. Her jeans now a dark mass on the floor beside them, she heard whispering from the others, apart from that, all she could hear was her own breathing. “You’re going to need to. But if it was empty, then who was she talking to? I wished I wasn't blindfolded.The room suddenly became very cold and the game didn't feel so much like a game anymore. My helplessness and the situation I was in finally struck home.The door opened and I did my best to close my legs in an attempt to protect whatever modesty I had left."Here she is," my wife said. "The one I told you about. The slut that likes to get arse fucked."It dawned on me what I had forgotten earlier - a safe word. I. She was smelling fantastic and the fragrance was from her hair. But she didn’t do any makeup. She just came to the couch and sat beside me, this time even closer. Her arm was touching my thighs. The smell of her hair was intoxicating me so I put my hands behind her over her shoulder and touched her hair. It was wet. I told her about the fragrance of her hair and touched it and played with her hair for a minute. I moved my head to her hair and smelled it and asked her which shampoo she was.
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