Flirting

I love the art of flirting, and my wife is the master. The way she stares. The subtle movement of her lips that tells the man that she wants something. The change of position, turning her body so she’s in front of the boy she wants, allowing him to see her legs, her short skirt, her transparent blouse. The sip to the glass showing her tongue, as if it was a cock. She whispering me that she wants him to fuck her. She does while she keeps staring at his eyes. She says it so slow he can read her lips. Once they get to that silent, remote agreement, she kisses me goodbye with a smile. I can often see them asking her if I’m her husband. Some leave, most stay. Then they ask if I want to see them fucking her. Some leave, most stay. She tells them that if they want I’ll join. Otherwise, I’ll just see. Yesterday was a see-only one. I was handcuffed to a chair, fully dressed. She kissed me goodbye before going to bed. Today, I’ve joined. I’m on top of her and we’re both sucking his cock. His cum is still on her chest. I love the way my wife flirts for me.