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She liked him reaching into her bra to pull her breast out, pinching the nipple, but his erection. She noticed when he began sucking on her nipple, but she noticed mostly because his hip pulled away from her. She missed feeling his cock. She reached her hand down to touch it. Press it. Squeeze it. They were both moaning. She knew it was happening but it felt like she was watching someone else. She was a spectator. It wasn't really her. But it sure felt good.As her blouse came off she was opening up his pants. Oh, shit! As she dropped his pants his erection sprang free. It was a tree trunk. She had been right, never had she seen one this big. Not that she had seen that many, but she did have her share of experience. Except for her husband, all of them before her marriage. He stepped out of his trousers as her blouse hit the floor. They headed toward her bedroom, losing her bra along the way. Their mouths were constantly on skin - breast, chest, shoulder, neck, even lips. Hands all. Youchanged that forever the day you came into it." "You came into my life, remember?" I chided. "I still remember watchingyou work your way across that crowded club floor to ask me to dance." Don't pick nits," she teasingly scolded. "I know a good thing when I seeone. You are a very good thing. I don't ever want to live without yourlove again. Damn you, you are so pretty! You make me feel... inadequate bycomparison."It wasn't the first time a woman had expressed that to me; usually whenshe left me. A couple of them - the more honest ones - had said theycouldn't compete with me. Huh? What was that supposed to mean? Joannahadn't left, had never felt threatened by my male-model good looks andslender runner's physique. When other women came on to me (and they did;sometimes right in front of her), she had certainly been territorialenough, and wasn't afraid to let her rival know. Still, she had handled itdifferently than any other woman I had ever dated. I sensed she was...proud others.
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