After that I quickly left the club and drove home confused thinking about the warm thick cock of Owen. I stumbled back into our apartment and of course found my wife lounging in front of the TV with a bucket of chicken wings, her fat fingers and her face all shiny with grease. She looked up at me and I didn't even have to say a word. I just blushed and a grin appeared on her oily lips.
"Do we have a date?!" she asked.
"Not yet but I am pretty sure it will work out. I shall call tomorrow..."
"Awesome!" Becky shouted out and opened her wobbly thick arms to invite me for a hug.
I walked over laying myself atop of her and she hugged me tight rocking me from side to side, crushing me with her sweaty arms. I inhaled her smell witch was a mixture of fried chicken and stale sweat. It should disgust me but somehow it just made my dick stir again in its pants.
"I knew you would get me my fat cock...." She gasped out of breath excitedly.
She pressed her greasy mouth onto mine and I could taste the fried chicken when I let my tongue slip in between her lips and we kissed for a few moments.
She hadn't acknowledged me this much for ages and it felt good that she seemed thankful for my sacrifice to our love.
Her hand fumbled for my crotch and she found the wet spot and suddenly stopped, pushing me back a little looking me deep in the eyes with a surprised look.
"Did he make you cum?" She whispered and again my blush deepened as I almost squeaked with my voice cracking: "I am sorry honey....it....was...I don't know...so different...."
The smile reappeared on her face and she nodded: "I always knew you were a little faggot. Didn't I tell you?"
"Yes you did honey, again and again."