"White Russian?" asked the bartender. He smiled cheekily, with dimples showing. He obviously remembered what I drank far more than I did. I smiled and...said, "Not today, babe. Whiskey, and keep it coming." Shot after shot, after shot, I was finally feeling the effects of the alcohol that barely tickled my throat. I was finally buzzed and ready to hit the dance floor. I had already earned enough stares from the gentlemen around me. I could practically hear their desires. They probably thought I. I was not masturbating, I was being fucked by some stranger, in the shed at the command of my husband. From my part no control, but helpless to the now orgasmic sensations that began to rack my body, wave after wave of strong convulsions, my pussy muscles clamping so tight to the ‘cock’ that had given them such a gift, I was totally lost in that moment of ecstasy. My mind restoring to reality, I lay still in the dark and quiet room, and become conscious of my dry mouth and fast heart beat. As. More

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