”“I bet you do,” I said. Already a drop of cunt cream fell onto the bed. “It's not biting into you in any places. No tingling.”“Circulatio... feels fine,” she said, wiggling her fingers and toes. “No pinched nerves.” She smiled at me. “Just a hot cunt and that wonderful abrasion all over my skin. Ooh, I'm going to be striped for days.”“Good,” I said as she rotated around. I grabbed her head and turned her, I planted a hot kiss on her mouth. I plundered my tongue past her lips, dancing with. When I finally would say something to him, it was never constructive; just an eruption.Tom wasn't participating in the counseling. No, he didn't want anything to do with Nicole these days. But before things got—well, to where they were now—he admitted that he hadn't been the perfect husband. If she was trying to give him a wake-up call, he said, he'd gotten the message.But it wasn't a wake-up call. It was a good-night call. Good-night to our marriage. I told him it was too late. That I didn't. More

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