The Orchid The Storyteller
- 4 years ago
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Voyeur’s Wife’s Story 1. free porn video
About 2 months ago Tom and I arranged to meet for dinner,
starting our night out with a drink at the Four Seasons. I
got there 15 minutes early, and the stress of the day as
will as my ever so middle class white wine released
inhibitions enough for me to get involved in a conversation
with a guy sitting nearby.
A half hour later I noticed my husband standing in the
doorway.
I waved him over, introduced the guy, and in a couple of
minutes the two of us went to dinner.
“How long were you waiting there by the door?”
“About 20 minutes.”
“Well, why didn’t you come over, for heaven’s sake.”
“It looked like you were having a good time, and I liked
watching.”
“Oh.” I realized this went on before with him. We dropped
the subject and had a nice evening.
On the drive home Tom asked “Did that guy – was his name
Bill? – try to date you?”
“No, we were just talking.”
We talked about other things for the rest of the drive, but
I began worrying that he thought I might be appearing too
available to strangers, and that was just not the fact. I
like everything about my husband and being married to him.
It’s the most important part of my life.
A couple of weeks later we made another date for a Friday
night dinner in town, with the meeting place set for the
Sheraton hotel. I thought Tom was late, until he appeared
from the back of the bar.
“What were you doing, I was waiting for 15 minutes.”
“I just like looking at you.”
“Were you waiting to see if anyone tried to talk to me, or
something?”
“I confess.”
“Don’t you trust me?”
“Of course I do. But it’s kind of exciting watching you talk
to guys in places like this, I guess maybe I’m a bit of a
voyeur.”
“Well, that’s different”. I was happy that it wasn’t a trust
thing after all.
Late at night the next week we were holding each other in
bed – that’s one of the best parts of being married, I think
– and talking.
I brought up his bothersome behavior. “Tom, how come you try
to watch strangers talking to me?”
I had my arm over his when I asked that – there was nothing
going on, just a married couple in bed, being comfortable
with each other.
But I felt his penis stir. “I guess it’s because I think you
are beautiful, and I like knowing other guys think you are,
too.”
Well, that’s kind of an odd compliment. “They may not think
that at all, they may be just trying to make conversation,
or maybe make a date, or even pick me up.”
His penis stirred more. “Maybe that would be OK, too.”
Now I was beginning to understand something new about my
husband. I took the hand he had on my hip, and moved it to
my crotch, then grabbed his cock – it was erect, now.
“Barbara, you’re getting all warm!”
“Tom, you’re getting all stiff.”
We put the stiffness and warmness together, and made love.
That’s not quite true. We fucked.
And talked, too, during the less active moments..
“Let me be sure I understand. You get turned on when you
think about guys trying to pick me up.”
He responded both physically and verbally: “Yeah.”
“Well, I’ve heard of men like you. You’re some kind of
voyeur.”
“Yeah, maybe.”
“Tom, I’ve been married to you all of my life. I don’t think
guys are interested in picking up married women. I guess it
is kind of nice having someone pay that kind of attention
to me, it’s sort of flattering – not that I don’t want to be
married, or anything.”
“Uh, you like that?”
“Maybe. It would be kind of nice if a guy tried to date me,
or even try to pick me when we’re out like that. It sure
doesn’t happen at Babson, or when we’re out together.”
His movements became more urgent.
“Uh, would you like to go out to see if something like that
would happen on purpose, instead of accidentally, like when
you’re waiting for me, like last time?”
His body was telling me it’s something he was interested in,
that’s for sure. He was offering me a license to flirt! No,
he was encouraging me to. I thought that would be a
different role for me, a change from the professional one at
work, or the married one with Tom. Why not?
I replied “Sure, so long as we wind up here.”
The sex we were having continued with more excitement than
usual.
The next day Tom came home from work – it was Friday – and
told me he found out the Marriett in Newton was a place
where singles our age went. “Let’s go there! You can pretend
to be single, or at least available, for a while.”
This was moving from an idea to action faster than I would
have imagined. Somehow we decided to do it. We had a silent
drive along Rt. 128: I felt a bit like I was being driven to
my execution. Well, it excited my husband. And me.
The hotel lounge was mobbed. It looked like most everyone
stayed at the bar, and guys approached women, talked to
them, danced, and tried to make dates. Or make them, to be
more honest.
We parted at the entrance, and I went to the bar, feeling
uncertain, in strange waters, a bit like a lamb being lead
to the slaughter. After all, I had seriously dated only one
man in my life, and married him. This was very new stuff.
In a while a couple of guys talked to me. One danced with me
a few times. I saw Tom watching, and that made me both a
little more comfortable, and flirtatious. I once saw him
dancing with a nice looking woman.
A couple of hours went by, then Tom asked me to dance, too.
We did, and used that as an excuse to leave together, not
that anyone was keeping score, or watching.
We talked on the way home. “I saw that guy dancing with you.
Did he try anything?”
“No, it was just a dance. He was a proper gentleman. You
know, up until today everyone who danced with me knew us as
a couple. These guys didn’t know that, they thought I was
available. That was an odd feeling. What about that girl you
picked up?”
“She came over and asked me to dance.”
“Did you enjoy it?”
“Honey, things have changed since we were single. She liked
to dance really close, and when I held her I was sure she
wasn’t wearing a bra, and I didn’t feel any panties seam
either.”
“Hey, tell me more, oh husband with the wondering hands.”
“Well, I could feel the heat from her groin through my
pants, and I got a hard on, and she knew it. But she didn’t
back away, either, She liked to grind her pelvis against
me.”
We got home, and got to bed. I wasn’t happy. “Tom, I’m
upset. The deal was you were supposed to be watching me, not
flirting or grinding your cock into someone. I feel
insecure, and I don’t like this game.”
He was apologetic. “Watching you was the deal, and to be
honest about it, that was the best part. The other was a
fringe benefit. I’d rather watch, anyhow. If we ever go
there again I promise to just watch, OK?”
“Well, just so long as you kept that thing” – I grabbed at
his cock – “in your pants until you get home.”
He then used that thing the way I wanted him to. When I
asked him while we made love, he promised that he wasn’t
thinking about the woman he danced with, but about me. Later
I learned – you will, too – it wasn’t only about me!
The next Wednesday evening Tom asked – begged – me to go out
and “play” again Friday, and I agreed. I confess to
daydreaming about some pick up scenarios, wondering how I’d
act, what might happen. What started off as almost
unthinkable outcomes (would I really let someone kiss me
thinking I was single) by Friday seemed OK and even fun. I
told Tom a little about my daydreaming – flirting, being
kissed – and was rewarded with some pretty turned on sex.
Tom, on the other hand, didn’t say much about his own ideas,
he just encouraged me with mine. He did insist on this: “If
you kiss, you gotta tell.”
Friday we had an early dinner so we could go out play ‘See
who tries (‘tries’ was the operative word in my mind) to
pick up Barbara’.
I pulled out a pretty silk dark print dress that buttoned
all the way down the front, a matching half slip, panty
hose, and a pretty bra. Tom got out a casual outfit – camel
hair jacket, chinos, white opened collar shirt.
“How do I look?”
“Barbara, you look great.”
He took me in his arms, kissed me. He already had an
erection, and I was pretty hot, too.
“Honey, can I make a suggestion?”
“Sure.”
“You do look wonderful, but you look like you’re going out
with your husband.”
“Uh, I guess that’s an old habit, but I do like this dress!”
“Yeah, but. . . Look, try something for me, OK?”
“Try what?”
“Try it without your bra.”
“What???”
“Go on.”
The idea did excite me. Tom must have been planning this
suggestion all week. Well, no one would know me there. I
went to the bath room, and came out two minutes later. I’m
not very busty, so it wasn’t uncomfortable.
“Any better?”
He held me again. “Much nicer. How does it feel to you?”
“Well, my breasts keep moving against the dress, like they
do when I’m wearing a negligee, so it stimulates my nipples
and they stand up. And I like the feeling of being kind of
almost naked, and of your hands on my back: it feels very
sexy. I do like it.”
He held me at arm’s length, and sure enough, my nipples were
poking at the dress.
“I think that looks wonderful!”
“That was a good idea, but I am glad it’s pretty dark in the
bar. Do you have any more good ideas, or can we go? If we
don’t go soon I’m just going to grab you by the cock and
take you to bed”, I said. Actually, that seemed like a good
idea, and a lot safer than the alternative.
“Maybe one more idea.”
“Tom, you have an evil gleam in your eye. Now what?”
“Remember the woman I danced with?”
“Yes.”
“She was very sexy.”
“Tell me why.”
“Well, when I held her like this when we were dancing” he
demonstrated, “and I moved my hand like this”, he moved it
low on my back, “I just felt softness, and not the kind of
hard feeling that an ass wrapped in panty hose has.”
“You mean you want me to go bare assed under this dress?”
“Honey, your legs are tanned and smooth, and great looking.
You don’t need panty hose. I’d get an erection every time
someone was near you, and I guarantee a reaction from anyone
who slow dances with you. Yeah, go bare assed. Are you
willing?”
“You didn’t just get this idea, did you?”
“No.”
He wants me to be sexy! I was so hot, so aroused, and I
wanted to please Tom, too, so I just sat on the sofa, kicked
off my shoes, stood, peeled off the hose, put on my shoes,
and moved into his arms.
“Try that.”
He did, and his erection told me just how much he approved.
“Maybe you should come to bed with me now”, he said.
I thought about that. It was safe, it would be fun, but now
I was excited too, and feeling wicked, daring. So, I took
his hand and pulled him to the door. It was only partly
teasing when I said “Not a chance. Now, we are going out! I
want some other men to see me, and maybe hold me, and dance
with me while I’m dressed like this. Maybe I’ll get someone
as excited as you are.”
I thought Tom would insist on staying home, but instead he
agreed. “Yeah, let’s go. I’d really like to see that too”. I
was learning something new about this man!
I pulled on a jacket because I did feel very exposed dressed
as I was, and off we went. We caught the after work crowd.
The lounge was dark so it was OK – just barely OK – when Tom
insisted I check my coat. I did, took a deep breath, and
went in. I danced with 5 different guys. I liked looking at
their faces when we danced, especially when they discovered
no bra strap across my back, and then, how every one found a
reason, while we were dancing, to let their hands drift
across my waist, and feel the slip waist band, but no lower
seams, only soft flesh. What a feeling of power and control
that was. After a while I rejected most invitations, except
from one nice guy. I knew he was aroused – that was clear –
and he sure thought I was. He .did enough exploring to have
figured out just what I was and wasn’t wearing. Not that he
was grabby, but there were casual brushes, and touches. He
wasn’t bashful about holding me tightly while we danced, and
when our bodies touched, he made sure his arousal was
obvious. I remembered what Tom told me about the woman he
danced with, so during slow dances I managed to miss his
lead a few times, and that caused – surprise – a little
accidental pelvis bumping. If felt very strange, feeling him
through the fabric of my dress. I thought, after an hour or
so, he had read by touch every label on every garment I was
wearing- all two of them. He wasn’t being grabby, either –
no hand on my leg (by now I was sitting at a small table
with him) or ass grabbing, but casual touches. He didn’t
even try to kiss me, and that was a disappointment – I
wanted my daydreams to be filled. He did make some
interesting suggestions, though.
Tom spent his time at the bar, watching. He wasn’t being
subtle, but the room was crowded enough so I don’t think
anyone noticed. I did notice that he talked to a woman a
couple of times, but never danced with her. He was keeping
his part of the deal.
After a while I figured I did enough flirting, and Tom
should have had enough as a fledgling voyeur. I was horny
and wanted to get in bed with my husband. I got my coat,
walked out, and got in our car. A few minutes later Tom got
in the driver’s side.
“Wow. Honey, you looked great. You had that guy so turned on
I think he had to go to the men’s room to masturbate. It was
wonderful. I’m surprised he didn’t ask you out. I can’t wait
to get you home.” He started the engine. I turned to face
Tom, and said “He didn’t ask me for a date, but he did ask
me to get some air with him, in his car.”
Tom put the car back in park. “He did? Did you want to go?
Do you want to go back in to him?”
“He said he was going to leave just after I did, so I can’t
go back to him. I didn’t know if I should go with him, or
even if I wanted to, without talking to you a lot about it,
first. I didn’t know how you’d take it. Maybe I should have
gone. I told him I didn’t know him well enough to get in his
car with him so he asked what about my car? That way he said
I’d be in control.”
“Stop, you’re going to make me come without touching me! It
sounds like he’s a smooth operator. But this is a small
car.” We came in our bench seat old fogie Olds. “Not much
could happen here, maybe some kissing and making out, that’s
all, and that would be all right.”
“Are you crazy? There’s a lot of room in this car!”
“Not enough.”
He was wrong about that. “Let me show you.”
I lifted up the center armrest, and had Tom recline his seat
a bit, and tilt the steering wheel up.
“This could have happened.”
I pulled him across the seat, and kissed him, tongue all
over the place.
I said “I think he’d want to do that. I would want him to. I
hoped somebody would kiss me like that tonight. He’d know
that would be the only reason for me bringing him here.
What do you think about that?”
“That would be all right with me, too.”
“Oh, it would? What about this?”
I turned my back to him, got my feet on the seat near the
door, knees up, and leaned backwards, into his arms.
It was a very comfortable position for me. I had an arm
around Tom’s neck. He had his left hand on the steering
wheel, so it was holding me up, and his right was around my
waist.
“Oh – oh, there’s more room here than I thought” he
admitted.
“Would you want your wife to be in someone else’s arms, like
this?”
“Oh, yeah. I dream about that! I’d love it.”
“I’m going to pretend you’re him. This would probably
happen.” I pulled him toward me, lifted up to meet him, and
we kissed again. We were acting more like teenagers than a
thirty something married couple.
I asked my husband “Should your wife do that, too?”
He whispered “Yes. I’d like that, I want you to do that”.
I knew he was getting really excited. So was I.
“I’d want to do this, too” I said, and took the hand he had
on my waist, brought it to my lips, kissed it, brought a
finger into my mouth, and kissed and sucked on it a bit,
too. That always got to Tom.
Tom said “Oh yeah, That would drive him crazy.”
“You may think I’m awful, honey, but then I’d do this.” I
took that hand, and moved it from my mouth, along my cheek,
and neck, to my breast.
Tom could feel my nipple standing up.
“The only reason for not wearing a bra is so he could touch
me like that,” I told Tom.
“Ahhhh, yes, make him do that, too!”
I was really letting my imagination run wild, feeling sexy,
and pretending Tom was someone else. After a few more
minutes. . .
“I’d have to tell him I liked that. Maybe, if he was nice. .
.”
“Oh, he’d be nice,” Tom interrupted as I took his hand from
my left breast, and moved it to the neckline of my dress.
He was looking down at me.
I guided his hand to the buttons, opened the first couple.
“. . . I’d ask him to help with this.”
“You’d do that??? I’d want you to, but I thought you’d get
mad.”
“He wouldn’t be able to touch me if I was all buttoned up,
would he?”
Tom never had trouble with my dresses, but he fumbled now.
Finally, when it was opened far enough – almost to my waist
– I said “. . . I would want him to touch my skin. . .” I
took his hand and slipped it under my dress. “. . .I think
he’d want to, don’t you?”
A minute passed.
He was silent, eyes closed, but his hand moved over my
breast. I closed my eyes, imagining it was someone else, and
it was even more exciting. I found I put my hand, outside
the dress, over his, holding him to me. “Well, would it be
OK with you if I let him touch me like that?”
“Yes, I want him to play with your tits.”
Now he was cupping and fondling my breast. My nipple was so
tight, and I could feel myself getting wet. Another couple
of minutes passed.
“If you were he, I’d tell you I was getting very excited.
Would it be all right with you if I did this?”
I took the open front of the dress and pulled it to the
side, exposing my breast, and looked down at his hand
holding me, rolling and twisting my nipple between his
fingers.
“Yes, let him see your tits, too.”
“Should I. .. .” I said, and pulled his hand away, pulled
his head towards my chest, and lifted up until his mouth
found my nipple.
I held him that way – not that he wasn’t willing – for a
couple of minutes.
“What do you think of your wife now?”
“I think you’re wonderful, and he’d think you were
terrific!”
“Do you really want me to let someone kiss my breasts, Tom?”
“Mmmm.”
“Maybe, if he was really nice. . .” I took his hand and
moved it down, across my lap, up my leg over my dress to my
knee, and then down until it was touching my skin on my
calf, midway between my knee and ankle.
“Do you think I should tell him both me and my husband want
him to touch me?”
“Yes,” he mumbled (well, his mouth was full).
His hand was just stroking my leg, so I said “Don’t be shy,
stranger”, put my hand on his wrist, and started it towards
my knee. Tom’s hand went under the dress and slip, and then,
once at my knee, down along the inside of my thigh.
“Would you want me to let another man do what you’re doing
now?” I asked him as I opened my legs a little, so that by
the time he got to my vagina he found it hot, and wet, and
available. And he didn’t waste a minute. He got fingers into
me, while he was still sucking at my nipple.
“Tom?”
“Yes?”
“Are you serious that you want me to get someone to do
this?”
“Oh yes.”
“My dress is getting wrinkled.” I lifted up, pulled at my
hem, folded it and my half slip back to my waist. His hand
never stopped, but now, in the dim light of the parking lot,
we could see my breast, exposed, and my legs spread with
Tom’s fingers moving in and out of me.
I said “Are you saying you want somebody else to be touching
me, with their fingers where yours are, and looking at me
all exposed like this in the car? That’s all right with
you?”
“Yes.”
We both enjoyed the game a little too much, and I knew my
husband, playing a guy who picked me up, was as aroused as
he could be.
“Don’t you think it’s a little unfair, that I’m getting all
of the pleasure?” I asked.
“Oh, but I love doing this to you.”
“But I want to give you – no, I want to give him – some
pleasure, too, OK?”
“What would you do?”
By now his mouth was on my breast again. I lifted his head
from my breast, lay my head in his lap, turned toward him a
little – not enough to interfere with the wonderful things
his fingers were doing to me, though.
“I’d do this.”
I put my mouth on his shirt, above his belt, breathed
through it, so my warm breath went through his shirt, to his
skin. I don’t think it warmed him, though. He seemed to
shiver.
“And maybe I’d do this.”
I lowered my head until it was in his lap, but facing him. I
could feel the heat from his crotch. I got my hands on his
belt, got that open, got his pants and fly open, reached in,
got my hand around his cock – what a surprise, he had an
erection.
“You’d want me to, wouldn’t you?” I asked, as I stroked him
and felt twitches, and quivers, as he tried to control
himself.
“Well??”
“Yes, I’d want you to do that.”
“Tom, his cock would be right in front of my mouth.
Shouldn’t I do something about that?”
“Yes, take his cock in your mouth like you do for me. Suck
it!!!”
A tilt of my head, a little movement, and my lips were on
it.
I took a break after a minute. “Is this what you’d want me
to do?”
He pushed himself back deep into my mouth, and I heard “Yes.
Do more”. We both heard someone walk up to the car on our
right, and we both looked out the passenger side window as a
guy looked in. “Lucky bastard”, he said, as he saw Tom’s
hand covering my crotch, an exposed breast, and Tom’s cock
almost in my mouth. He got in his car, and drove away.
Tom usually has a lot of endurance – he can hold his
erection for a long time. But now, as the other car was
pulling out, I felt his cock pulse, and he came in my mouth.
That doesn’t happen too often with us.
Afterwards, driving home -“Tom, you owe me a major orgasm.”
“You’re going to get one!”
His cock wasn’t working any more that night, but his fingers
and mouth were. I got what I wanted.
The next morning we spent in bed, cuddling, talking.
“That was some fun.”
“I liked last night”, I said, “did you?”
“You bet.”
He asked: “Would you really do that with someone else?”
I told him I thought it was pretty exciting, just with him
pretending to be a stranger.
“Did you mind that guy seeing you going down on me?”
“It made it even better.”
Tom said “The whole evening was a major turn on for me. I’d
like you to do that, maybe even more, so long as you would
end up here with me later.”
“Tom, the only ‘more’ left would be for someone else to fuck
me.” I could feel myself getting excited again. “Is that
what you want?”
He took my hand, and put it on his cock. It was getting hard
again.
“At this moment, yes.”
For the first time in years, we had intercourse every night
that week.
Tuesday, in bed, before sex, Tom gave me a gift. I often
wear a thin gold necklace with a single diamond pendent.
It’s a favorite that Tom gave me. This was a much longer
fine chain. I doubled it, put it on my neck.
“No, no, you wear that on your waist, right on your skin.”
“Oh.”
I got out of bed, took off my negligee, and he put the chain
on. It rode high on my waist on one side, low on my hip on
the other, with the ends hanging free a few inches down my
hip.
“Now, that IS sexy” , he said, and proved it.
Afterwards – at least I thought it was afterwards – I told
him how much I liked it, but that I thought it should be
worn more as a belt on a simple dress. “Barbara, wear it on
your skin. And Barbara, it will be OK if I’m not the only
guy who sees you wearing it.”
That lead to another sexy session.
On Friday morning, at breakfast, I asked “Are you sure you
want to go back to the Marriett tonight?”
He answered with a question and a grin. “Yeah, what about
you?”
“Tom, this is a dangerous game, but I admit I like it too,
but, uh, what if. . .?”
He looked at me right in the eye. “Anything you do is sure
OK with me.”
My grad students didn’t have my full attention that day. I
got home early, Tom by 6:30. I was ready to get dressed.
Tom wanted to help, and the notion of having my husband help
me get ready to go out and flirt – maybe more – made me even
more excited.
When I finished drying after being in the shower, Tom knelt
in front of me, looped the chain around my waist, pulled me
close and nuzzled into my pubic mound. “Everything else can
go, but only I get to take this off, OK?”
“OK.”
I don’t wear much makeup. He watched as I dabbed a bit on.
“Honey, put a little perfume on your neck, too.”
I did.
“Maybe some between your breasts, just in case?”
“OK.”
“Thighs?”
“Tom, stop it! I can accept the idea of having someone play
with my breasts, but. . .”
“OK”.
I selected my fooling around outfit for the evening. Silk
blouse, long wrap around skirt that showed leg when I
walked, fairly high heeled shoes. No bra, no slip, no
panties. If we were playing strip poker, I couldn’t lose too
many hands. I felt free, sexy, naked, hot. “Tom, if tonight
starts off like last week did, you may have to wait a while
if I go to the parking field with someone. Will that be OK?”
His eyes told the story – it sure would! He confirmed it.
“I’d like that, it would be fun for me, too. But what about
you? It’s your body.”
“I made promises to be faithful to you. I don’t want to
break those promises.”
“Honey, ” he said, “this is not cheating. It’s for our
pleasure, and I don’t care about other people’s opinions.
It’s between us.”
“OK. I’m ready to go.”
“Good, but before we do. . .”
He took me in his arms. It started out as a romantic kiss,
but then his hands were on my ass under my skirt. “I love
the way you look. I can feel the chain, too, and I like
that. If things get pretty hot in the car with someone, at
least you’ll be wearing something! I love you, and I love
you even more for doing this.”
We started to the hotel: not a word was spoken as we drove
along Rt. 2, not a word along 128, we were each lost in our
thoughts. The hotel is just a couple of turns from 128, and
we got there too soon. He whispered “I love you” as he
dropped me off, then went to park the car. I sat in the
lobby, feeling excited, erotic, maybe a little trashy. Tom
walked in – I know he saw me – walked by, and walked down
the hall to the lounge without acknowledging me. I waited,
went to the lady’s room, then with a deep breath, entered.
Tonight, I was pretty sure, I’d be willing be kissed
passionately by a new person, and was scared and excited
about it.
I had two cocktails for courage at the bar, rejecting a
couple of invitations to dance. Finally, I decided it was
time. It started out pretty much like the week before. Once
again I danced with a couple of guys, but then almost
exclusively with a tall man named Ted who was a sweetheart
of a guy. Sexy, too. He wasn’t grabby, but he sure knew what
I wasn’t wearing, there were enough casual touches, hands
along my back and so on, for him to know that. I think he
even figured out the chain, which rode high on my waist on
one side, and on my hip on the other. The dance floor was
pretty dark, but I could see Tom at the bar, watching. I’m
pretty sure he saw Ted’s hand move down my back, and pass
over my buttocks. I knew Ted thought he was touching bare
ass under my skirt.
I could see Tom watching, as I looked at him over Ted’s
shoulder. I thought I could turn up the heat for all three
of us. Besides, I was supposed to be sexy, and available.
When we were dancing close to the bar I held him with my arm
around his back, moved closer, and made it clear to Ted I
wanted to be kissed. His lips brushed mine, then my ear.
When we turned again I could see Tom staring, mouth open.
Ted let me know he was a little aroused, too, as he held me
against an increasingly hot and hard crotch. I may be
married for a while, but it looked as if I was attractive
enough to cause a real reaction!. Early on Ted apologized
when he (I think accidentally) poked me with it as we were
dancing.
“Opps, sorry about that,” he said.
Madison
- 03.12.2020
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