Taken
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Preview
I knew my wife was bisexual before I married her. She and her best friend had been to bed several times in high school, and even shared a boyfriend a few times. I hadn't had the pleasure of both of them before we were married, although I did come home one night, and after kissing Ella, could tell that they'd been to bed earlier. Our first wedding anniversary was coming up, and Ella asked me what we were going to do to celebrate. I had planned a nice erotic dinner, perhaps a stage-show or dancing, then back home to screw our brains out. When I explained, and asked why she wanted to know several weeks in advance, she simply smiled and suppressed a giggle, her grey eyes twinkling with an impish gleam.
Luckily, our first anniversary fell on a Friday, and reservations made, we dolled ourselves up and went out for the evening. Dinner at a fine restaurant and dancing at a local hot-spot kept us laughing and in a good mood. As we drove home, Ella sitting next to me, leaned over and caressed my thigh erotically with her fingernails, sending a shiver through me. "You still want to f*ck my brains out tonight?" She cooed. I said yes, I would happily keep her wet and jumping all night long. When Ella came, no one could doubt that she wasn't faking.
Her tendency to "let go" in bed meant that she was prone to outbursts of very erotic (and sometimes downright dirty) talk, as well as moaning and thrashing wildly about the bed. Arm in arm, we climbed the stairs to our apartment, and once inside, we kissed passionately for several long moments, running our hands over each other and bring desire to a boil.
Luckily, our first anniversary fell on a Friday, and reservations made, we dolled ourselves up and went out for the evening. Dinner at a fine restaurant and dancing at a local hot-spot kept us laughing and in a good mood. As we drove home, Ella sitting next to me, leaned over and caressed my thigh erotically with her fingernails, sending a shiver through me. "You still want to f*ck my brains out tonight?" She cooed. I said yes, I would happily keep her wet and jumping all night long. When Ella came, no one could doubt that she wasn't faking.
Her tendency to "let go" in bed meant that she was prone to outbursts of very erotic (and sometimes downright dirty) talk, as well as moaning and thrashing wildly about the bed. Arm in arm, we climbed the stairs to our apartment, and once inside, we kissed passionately for several long moments, running our hands over each other and bring desire to a boil.