That’s what he misses about me. I’m not the woman he fell in love with. That’s what he sees in that tart Leila. I used to look just like that. I...was his girl from Inglewood. Now I was a bitter, old, overweight nagging wife. I lay on our marital bed and I touched myself. I was wet and I could feel my clit pulsating. I breathed slowly and heavily as I gently stroked my clit. It felt so good to feel sexual pleasure. It had been a long time since I had touched myself and months since my encounters. Hesmells of aftershave. Something musky and masculine. It fills mynostrils as I breathe in in anticipation of what will happen next.His penis is now at my front door, pushing. Entry, and the sound of thelubricant slurping. He is all the way in. He is inside me now. I lookup at his face. His eyes are closed and he is softly exhaling. He ishappy.I once knew what he is feeling now. I once had a penis. I oncepenetrated women. I fucked women, and it made me happy, regardless ofhow they. More

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