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He knew just how to touch me, and the thrill of the dark alley and the warm night air only added to my rising heat.
I could hear the sounds of people passing by not far away, but even knowing that anyone could step into the alley and see us couldn’t stop the gathering warmth in my belly. But Greg abruptly slowed, then stopped the rhythm of his fingers inside me.
I couldn’t help myself; I leaned back against the alley wall, pushing my hips against his hand.
He kissed me again, stifling my gasp as his thumb circled my clit, teasing my opening with his fingers.
I couldn’t stifle a wordless sound of protest as he took his hand out of my knickers.
“Sorry, sweets,” he grinned, tugging my dress down so that my thighs were covered again.
Despite all my nerves, I knew I’d be disappointed if we just turned around and went home.
He was hesitant at first, not wanting to make me insecure or feel inadequate, but slowly he opened up and told me some stories from his life back in Sydney before he moved to Brisbane.
I straightened up, tugging down my skirt, and smiled at my husband. He took my hand as we walked towards the swingers club. ” “Right.” I squeezed his hand, grateful for his support as I was still wobbling a little on the tarmac in my heels. Greg and I had been married for six years, and our daughter had been born four years ago.
“We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to,” he reminded me. “And the same goes for you.” “I mean it,” Greg insisted. With all the experiences and responsibilities that came with being parents, our sex life had taken a back seat, and it wasn’t until about a year ago that we started looking for ways to make things more lively.
“Just taking your temperature.” “You could at least finish the job,” I protested, trying to catch my breath.“Later.
Promise.” Greg took my hand again and led me out of the alley and towards the club entrance.
In our bedroom at home, it had seemed both sexy and classy, but now I was worried that I looked frumpy and mumsy, a suburban housewife out of her depth.