In my early twenties, my school friend Sarah married a 45-year-old man named David. They were both wonderful people and seemed genuinely happy together. Once, they invited me to stay with them for a week at their beautiful home. Little did I know how much this visit would affect me.
From the moment I arrived, it was clear that Sarah and David had an intense and passionate relationship. Their affection for each other was evident in every glance, every touch, and every whisper. At the pool, I couldn’t help but notice how David’s hands would constantly find their way to Sarah’s perfect body, caressing her curves, and teasing her as she giggled and swatted his hands away playfully. But it was clear she enjoyed it.
During our cozy movie nights, things would escalate even further. As the lights dimmed and the movie played, David’s hands would wander under the blanket they shared. He’d gently rub Sarah’s thigh, slowly inching closer to her pussy. I could see the glint of excitement in her eyes as she pretended to focus on the screen. Occasionally, he’d sneak his hand under her shirt, teasing her breasts, and playing with her nipples. The way they interacted made it clear they had an electric connection.
There were many times when they’d suddenly disappear upstairs, leaving me alone in the living room. Based on how many times this happened in a day, I assumed they were having sex two or three times daily. Late at night, I would lie in bed, trying to fall asleep, but instead, I’d hear Sarah’s…
