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“We Shouldn’t.”

“I know.”

“It’s wrong.”

“I Know.”

“We could get caught.”

“I know.”

“We would lose everything.”

“I know.”

Despite all the solid arguments she was making my hands continued to fondle her large, hanging breasts. They were being covered, rather than supported by the plain purple and black plaid one-piece swimsuit she was wearing. Between responses I buried my face into her black curly hair and continued to bite and nibble on her neck. Between her protests she moaned and gasped.

My own swimsuit was doing nothing to conceal my hardness as I pressed into her fleshy, ample bottom. I had been fantasizing about her since the day my wife’s loser brother introduced her. Over the years my feelings had grown more lustful.

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