“I don’t care,” she responded.
That hurt a little but not enough to kill my boner.
After Vanessa started stroking, my wife sat at the end of the bed reading Fifty Shades of Grey or one of the sequels.
I had been hoping that this would have been an actual threesome but that’s not how life works.
She was a bit rough. She didn’t seem to want to take her time. She didn’t seem to care one way or the other that I enjoyed myself. I wish she would have used some lotion.
After Vanessa finished me off, both women ran into the bathroom.
They were both giggling for what felt like hours but was probably about the same amount of time it took Vanessa to make me come.
As they walked out of the bathroom, Vanessa asked, “How often can he do it?”
“Well, probably every day,” she informed her. “For best results, I think every three days should work.”
I looked at my wife.
How the hell did she look like she was eighteen again?
She looked so young.
I’ll admit, I looked down at my growing beer belly and kind of resented her.
If hand jobs were making her younger, I should probably be a baby accounting for how much I have masturbated since we had kids.
Well, my wife’s love of giving me hand jobs did fade but her circle of friends became a bit larger.