Trent pressed Polly back down against carpet, and as her back hit the floor, he started to massage her breasts. Polly threw her head back and laughed wildly, with her legs kicking restlessly. Her hips writhed as his palms brushed over her n*****s, before he brought his mouth down over each one, sending Polly into a wild series of lustful cries. “Fuck... f**k yes,” she moaned, grabbing Trent’s hair, as if trying to guide him. But my husband had a few tricks up his sleeves; he knew exactly what he was doing. I knew the playbook well – in fact, it only added to the strangely pleasurable jealousy, to see him using the same moves on this stranger that he used on me. I could feel myself in Polly’s body, with Trent’s mouth on my own breasts. Of course, for a moment, I wanted to be in Trent’s body
