I moved us both over to the blanket and lowered us both. Charlotte stretched out on the blanket, offering her body to me. I was awestruck by her beaut..., how she was offering herself. My ever-present fantasy of fucking her about to be replaced by the real thing.Like a love-struck kid, I dropped onto the blanket, pulling us together as our lips crushed each other. Soon our tongues were doing the love dance of the ages, my fingertips squeezing and rolling her taut nipples. Charlotte was a hot mess. Biaggio sent you yesterday.” I had to break it off in him or Dillon would start talking reconciliation and wooing me back. When I redirected he called me a slut or an ice cold bitch. He was tacky enough and ask, “So, who are you fucking now?” The genesis for this was my fault as well. Our pillow-talk marriage bed fantasies involved him watching me with other men while I was screaming rapture-induced vulgarities. Both my husband and my imaginary lover called me names and ordered me around with. More

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