There was one time the next week when I had put on one of my old sleep shirts, wearing nothing underneath and gone to bed without a thought of seducin... my husband that something happened. Victor had gone to bed before me and when I slipped under the covers as I had for the last month hoping that he would want me, he reached for me without speaking. I gratefully went into his arms and buried my face against his chest, but he was having none of that. He pushed me onto my back, pulled the sleep. Her right hand had disappeared under the table, and I saw her right arm moving in a well-known rhythm. She was masturbating. Apparently, the sight of us abusing the waitress turned her on so much, she had to touch herself.And what about the old man? He wasn't staring quite as obviously, but he, too, seemed to have his hand under the table, probably stroking his old, wizened cock.I loved it. It was as if the whole diner was in heat.The waitress squirmed on the table, the vibrating nightstick. More

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