.the candlelight dancing off Eva’s glistening skin…as he moves closer to her pert buttocks she tightens…..”Breath,” he says in a soothing voice…As she relaxes her legs fall open feeling the damp warmth between her thighs….His hands sliding over her firm cheeks formed from hours in the saddle, releasing the knots.Hands slowly working down the outside of her leg her skin soaking up the warming oil…starting to work up her inner thigh his eyes can’t help but notice the smooth pair of moist lips. We shyly demurred but the seed of recreational infidelity had been planted. It germinated and sprouted in our pillow talk over the next several months. Then on a business trip to New York City, I picked up a couple of issues of the popular "swinger magazines" filling one shelf of a sleazy store in the Times Square area. "Select" and "Choice", I think were their titles. That was the major medium for meeting others with similar urges before the internet.We pored over the ads from others traveling. Everything is going dark except for her eyes. Her eyes are sharp and bright. Everything else is soft in comparison. Everything is dim. Like a cold night back in Massachusetts. A winter night. I love winter. You curl up on the couch when it gets dark so early. Grab a book. Sit by the fire. Everything is dark, but you can see from the crackling fire. The fire glows amber. The whole room is amber. The book is amber. The world is amber. Sarah is amber. And amber is safe.Of course, I’m safe. I nod. Andhis peculiarities. But I won?t. That would be disgusting. Instead, I?lltell you about Madge and me and J. Michel, the idiot savant artist withthe golden cock, him and me and Madge in the early 1980s...New York City was a wild scene, full of crazy clubs and crazy people. Iwas still trying to figure out who I am. Just another party girl orsomething else? Sitting in the Yaffa Caf?, 4am, drinking a cup ofcoffee, playing with a silver spoon, after a long night at WebsterHall, asking myself the.
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