It was the day before Thanksgiving and all she could think about was him and his cock.
She was cock-sick, it had been weeks since she had seen it. Touched it. Felt it.
She remembered the way he touched her, his smell - that intoxicating brew of sex chemicals. Just being around him aroused her, and she pictured him touching her nipples in passing.
She kept this vision of him egging her on: sit on that with no panties, wear this skimpy outfit, even when he wasn't there.
She would imagine him watching her undress and she would get horny, climb onto her yoga mat and begin undulating until she squirted cum all over the mat.
But he wasn't there. And she just wanted him to be. Her pussy throbbed in angst.
And then out of the blue, he messaged her.
She wasted no time asking him to come over, and to her excitement he said yes.
Within minutes she had changed into a tiny seamless thong and pajamas. She didn't want to tip her husband off that his friend coming over was making her wet and horny.