Helen knew I was a married woman. I knew I was a married woman. Neither of us cared. Yes, we should have. But we didn’t. I don’t know how, much being a blur, but we were naked on the bed and she was kneeling between my legs and adoring my p***y, my hands pulling her to me. I rarely allowed Tim to do this. I knew he wanted to, but it was an act too intimate even for my husband. I went down on him when he asked—although I’m afraid to say that I never did it voluntarily—but told him that being eaten out didn’t do it for me.
With Helen, it worked more than anything I could imagine. Her blue eyes looked at me briefly, but it was too intense and I lay with my head on the pillow, my eyes closed so I could focus all of my energy on what she was doing to me. Soon my hands loosened their grip and I
