Marc was unique since he was the second caucasian guy that she ever dated yet the only one that she truly liked. By the second week, I still wasn't ge...ting shit. Whenever I went to the adult theaters, I just couldn't jerk off or nothing. It just wasn't the same like it was back home. I would call my wife to see how she was doing with Paul, to which she says that they would text or IM, yet they hadn't gone out the following week. She asked me if it was okay to see Marc, to which I mentioned that. Cautiously I reached under and gently lifted up the edge of her skirt to see what she was wearing. To my pleasant surprise she was wearing a thong made of some sort of metallic looking fabric reflected all the colors of the rainbow. I sat here transfixed staring at her panties. The way the small scrap of cloth covered her and concealed her. The way it cupped her sex, the way her pubic hair made a soft mound under the iridescent cloth... My breathing was getting a little heavier now. I let her. More

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