"I dunno. I can't exactly look for bruising. I'll probably have to have someone, uh, look at it?"
"I'm not looking at your d**k, Justin," I said breathily. At some point, I had started putting more weight on his d**k, his c**k really, it was throbbing at me, and now I was a little bit grinding on it. My thong was still to the side and I was aware of how close he was to my p***y. It was a sexy thrill, and I wasn't thinking very clearly.
"You could touch it for me. I can't really tell what hurts right now, but maybe with someone else's hand it would be easier."
The logic was NOT sound, it was a non sequitur, there was no reason for my hand to be currently wrapped around a thick, pulsing c**k that wasn't my husband's. Did I do that? Did he take my hand and put it there? I don't remember. B
