During one of the hospital visits I noticed a brownish mark on his jacketwhich he claimed was dirt He got a 'pull the other leg' look - it wasobviously make-up."We'll talk about this later," I told him, my tone of voice indicatingthere would be no argument to that.Eventually we had the chat about him dressing and the need to be moreaware of the feelings of others - 'others' being the immediate family. Itturned out I was correct about the mark and he had gone out from the hotelthe night before 'dressed to kill' as he was bored without me around.Having his Samantha clothes with him he went out; of course, he did nothave a lady's coat with him and had not noticed the makeup stain on hismale jacket.Tony eventually said that it was time that I should meet Samantha fully.I was, of course, aware of Samantha, I had even helped decide on her name.Did I really want to meet HER, fully dressed? The idea thrilled andfrightened in the same moment."I've seen you dressed," I said."No, you have not,". Perhaps….No, pushing aside that thought, but unable to completely banish the idea of him lying here, stroking his cock. I imagine then that he is here, making love to me, lying beside me. I hear his breathing quicken, his heartbeat intensify. My hand reaches behind me, into the waistband of my jeans, slipping down over my ass crack, sliding down further, fingertips over top of my hot opening. I let my middle fingertip circle there, rimming the lips surrounding the entrance, imagining you doing these things, here, in your bed. So turned on by the thought of you lying here, naked, sleeping, or awake…awake….making love to me. That thought elicits a deep groan as I slide a finger into my cunt and lift my ass, fucking motions against and with my hand, my breathing deep, ragged, desirous. The delightful mixture of his scent that fills my senses as I muffle my moans in his pillow further inflames me, my movements increase in speed, I imagine his hands on me, that thought alone…and his.
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