I opened the door and immediately I knew who had been here. I could smell him. It was not unusual to smell another man in my apartment;Β you might say my wife and I had an arrangement. This time it was Peter the young barista from the coffee shop on North Street.
I walked inside, placed my briefcase next to the table and continued into the lounge room. There on the couch was my wife. My used wife.Β At the age of 25, my wife Katy is in peak physical shape. She has long blond hair, is quite tall, and is slim.Β She is the love of my life.
As I move to the couch, our eyes meet, there is no need for words - I am acutely aware of what I need to do. Wearing black lingerie and stockings, Katy is reclined on the couch. She may very well be in exactly the same position she was when Peter left. It looks like she hasn't moved. Her cheeks are still red. She's smiling of course, and there is the load of cum which Peter left inside her cunt for me to clean. Some of it has dribbled out so it sits on her outer lips, and there is even a drop on the couch.