"I am going to help you. Do you trust me?"
Of course, I trusted her. And I didn't want to lose her.
My name is Mark, and I am a pervert. Just ask my wife, Carol, she will tell you. It never bothered her. She approached me after catching me staring at her chest one day, asking if I wanted a better look. I thought I was done for. I had gotten lost in her beauty. It was her eyes that kept drawing me back. And the fact that she wasn't wearing a bra. And probably not panties, I suspected at the time.
She fucked me raw that night. And again, the next morning. When I couldn't get it up again, she pushed my head between her legs.
We were a perfect couple. She kept my balls empty and my belly full. I had one request, that she wear that dress every now and then. She did. She had one request of me: I needed to keep myself in check. She didn't want some other girl reacting to my perving. And Carol really didn't want me getting off to even the thought of another woman. I promised. And I tried, I really tried.
Naturally I failed. She caught me. Not only looking at the low-cut dresses her friends all seemed to be wearing at our backyard barbecue, but Carol caught me in the bathroom rubbing one out. I really only did it to keep myself in check. We had to play host until everyone left. It would be hours, maybe even a full day before I could get relief any other way.
"I am going to help you. Do you trust me?" Carol asked.
"I trust you," I replied.
"Repeat after me," Carol ordered.
I did, "I, Mark the Creepy Pervert, agree to fully respect my perfect wife Carol in any and every way."