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He should ignore it. He didn't. Openingup the text another unknown number greeted him, different from the onebefore."Hi. You don't know me. My name's Marcus," Art read on, aghast at thename he had just skimmed past. How had Marcus got his number? "My friendDoyle gave me this number. He said you and him had fun last night. Justchecking to see if you fancied meeting up with me for a drink, or maybeeven come to my place haha. I promise however big Doyle was, I'm bigger;)"The phone drop to the floor again. Art's eyes closed again. He sighedloudly. This was bad. This was very bad. Doyle was giving his number outnow without permission. An empty feeling spread through Art's chest, theworst case scenario's rushing out of no where, jabbing at his brain.Whatif Doyle gave the number to Linton? Would Linton text him? What if Marcuspassed the number on again? What if the number made it's way Art'sfriends? What if Danny found it? A dull throb arched its way across Art'sforehead. He pulled himself. I was on the side of the bed with the reading lamp. Robert sidled up against me and started tweaking my nipples. He kissed my ear. I kissed him back. I still did not want to have sex tonight, but those stirrings had a mind of their own. “Mmm. You’re getting hard again. Are you thinking about me fucking you or me fucking Thomas?” “You fucking me this time. And I will get into that pussy of yours, or Thomas’s version of it.” At least my husband spoke the truth. I started to massage his pole. It grew in my hand. “Do you want to watch me fuck him?” My husband answered quickly, “Of course. But you must know Thomas and I have a past as well.” “Tell me more.” “In time, all will be revealed.” “Dammit. He is talking in those old quotes again. No pussy for you tonight, hubby.” He had gotten my attention. I countered, “I want you to see how hot he gets me. Is that wrong?” His reply, “Not at all.” It was still snowing the next morning. I got up and looked out the window: our car was.
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