My wife was bent over a desk, her fake tits out, bouncing as the younger man fucked her. He was in his mid-twenties, fit and tan, blond like me, his b...dy muscular. His arms flexed as he gripped her flesh. He grunted, thrusting hard and fast into her, his chiseled face twisted in pleasure as he plowed into my wife.My rage boiled through me.Then my wife noticed me. “Willis!” she screeched, her back straightening, her hands darting to cover those large, firm breasts I bought her. “What the fuck. "That came as a bit of a shock, I have to say, but I was touched – I didn't realise anyone cared about me."I'll be glad for them to come." I said.The wedding – what can I say? Helen wore a long, dark green, dress and looked incredible. Philippa was in a pale spring-green dress; as I said before, they could have been sisters. Helen promised to 'obey' – which I hadn't expected – when I asked later ;"What can I say? I'm an old-fashioned girl."Greg spoke briefly and movingly about working at being. More

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