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I could feel my pussy leaking as my arousal grew. Since Oscar had instructed me to not wear my panties, my secretions were tricking down my legs and coating my inner thighs, making them quite slippery as Johan explored my body on the dance floor. I wondered to myself, 'does Oscar have any idea how wet this young man was making me?' After a series of torrid dances, I led Johan to Oscar's table where I introduced my young, gorgeous, Norwegian friend to my husband. As I introduced Johan, I made it clear to my husband that if Oscar did not object strenuously, I was going to let this very youthful lover from Norway be the second man to ever fuck me. I wanted him. And he certainly seemed to want me. I honestly cannot say whether I was more disappointed or relieved that Oscar did not object. I suppose I felt both emotions simultaneously. When Oscar granted this handsome young visitor permission to fuck me, part of me felt that my husband should have been more protective and jealous; that he. But at the same time, I didn’t want to give away myself that easily, so I waited patiently until she opened the door and let me in.Needless to say, she already knew why I was there, for she was wearing a skimpy top, which revealed her deep cleavage and a pair of hot pants which stuck tightly to her long legs.It was difficult for me to open my mouth as I stared across the room, at her perfect body. Her face was lit with glee as she stared back at me and beckoned me to come closer to her.I took slow and unsteady steps as I locked the door behind me and walked towards the diva standing in front of me, dressed in the most promiscuous way possible. I was enchanted by her slim waist and her perfectly shaped navel, which was deep, narrow and curved, just like the ones of popular actresses. (Yes, I have a navel fetish, but that’s a story for another time.)‘You know why you are here, Raghu?’, she asked me as she took my hand in hers and placed it on her already erect nipples and started.
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That’s twenty-seven times longer you haven’t known me than you have.’ ‘I’ll take your word for the math,’ I said. ‘So for almost your whole life, you learned how things are in the world and how you fit into that framework?’ ‘Yes.’ ‘And at the very end of all that time, a stranger comes along and tells you you’re mistaken. He tells you you’re really someone else with qualities you didn’t know you had.’ ‘Right,’ I agreed. ‘So as I understand your big problem we’ve outlined here: you’re having trouble accepting, on faith, the word of a stranger that your belief system built over twenty years is flawed in that it doesn’t give you credit for being a better person than you thought you were. ‘And, since you have failed to completely integrate his view, on faith, into your belief system, there is no hope for your future.’ I chuckled. ‘When you say it that way, it sounds stupid.’ ‘Which one had the Caesar Salad?’ asked the waitress. Jeff raised his right hand and said, ‘That would be me.’ I.

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