We've tried a couple of things to spice it up. Something's were too painful to try again. (Even though at time it was enjoyable, too bad it didn't last very long.) We used to text most of time he was at work. Sometimes it turned into sexting or telling each other our fantasies. We hadn't done it in years but I really missed that intimacy with him. So I decided I'd send him a nice, long message of a fantasy of mine. I'm used to him working more now than he he used to so I didn't expect a text. My wife giggles. There may very well be something funny in the idea of her husband at the mercy of this stiff caricature of a woman, but I fail to see it. The woman gives me the creeps. Helga, her face stern and without a hint of hesitation in her manner, unbuckles, unbuttons and unzips, drops the frock to her feet. The legs are milky white, skinny, thin black hairs all the way up to the groin. The skin is almost transparent, the flesh drapes loosely around the bones. The white cotton briefs. I couldn't even come close to getting my hand around it so I began squeezing and stroking it. Finally I got my hand on her nipple and began to roll it between my finger and thumb. She sat back on the couch and tilted her head back and began to pant like she had been running. In this position I had to climb on top of her to keep my mouth on hers. This gave me more room to get my hands on her. I was tired of fumbling under her shirt so I pulled it off of her. She raised her arms to help me get. “By the time you’ve covered your party legs and got your helmet and gloves and boots and everything else on I’ve already arrived.”“Party legs?” she smirked. “I really wanted them to work on you. I saw you and I just thought ‘ooh yes’.”“For me it was when you came into the kitchen and instantly took the piss about a cup of tea,” I reached over and stroked her right leg, “At the party I did notice you, but I had something on my mind.”“Yeah I know. It’s cool.” She smiled at me and I noticed her.
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