She was attractive, and had a friendly but cool air about her. Mark introduced both of us to her, and she seemed to already know that she was to take me upstairs.I looked back at my wife, trepidation at leaving the woman I love. We were separated now, and I felt a sense of no turning back now. Linda took me to a private bedroom upstairs and closed the door behind us. "Eddie, you and your wife make a lovely couple. How long have you been married?" Her small talk seemed to have the desired effect of putting me at ease, at least a little. "Thank you," I responded. "We've been married just a little over a year now." I answered."Ah, I see. It's nice to have such a lovely couple brought in to our fold here." She sat down on the bed, showing how at ease she was while I continued standing there in the room. "And how long has Mark been...utilizing your wife, Eddie?" her tone was slightly condescending, humored at how uncomfortable I was.My eyes went down, having a hard time making eye contact. His fingers worked the button and zipper, showing a faint trail of black curling hair running from the bottom edge of the jacket to disappear under the line of the jeans. Stiff, short bristles under his fingers, he followed the trail; pushed under the jeans, sliding them down to meet the chaps hanging off the hips. Icy fingers left goose bumps on his heated surface as they brushed across the soft skin of his belly, released his pants and felt underneath. The tingle had grown to a throb that tightened his balls; put a knotted fist in his core. Butter soft leather wrapped around his erection, making him moan, biting his lips. The ache goaded him, demanding he push his hips forward. Rocking, restive, straining to stroke and touch; to soothe that need. His hands pushed the jeans farther down, let the biker’s cock spring out at him, bobbing there, veined and dusky, demanding to be touched. His fingers surrounded the chilled skin, stroking it, wrinkles pushed towards the head then pulled.
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