Her slow steady breathing came louder and harder. I cupped a hand under her sex and she lurched slightly at the contact. My middle finger played with ...er slit, which was just becoming slick with her juices. Her knees, already slightly spread from the stretches, pushed out a little farther and her back arched a little more as she raised her ass to make my job easier. I pushed up slightly with the hand on her snatch, raising her higher. With my other hand, I grabbed my aching prick and guided it. I always had to keep my eyes lowered to the floor when I was helping her dress. I would see her when she used my mouth as a toilet and when I shaved her, but that was the extent of it. Of course my wife made it painfully clear to me that she had absolutely no interest whatsoever in touching me anywhere. It had been six months since my little dick had felt anything but my own hand, but I felt grateful that I was still allowed to touch myself on occasion. As my wife ran her riding crop along my. More

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