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I got to see them facing me, side profile and as she bent over.After the second spot it became a nightly ritual for me. The third occasion she put a leg in sight on the bed and moisturised for ages and I got to see them shaking around firmly. They would have looked good springing around on top of you.This continued for weeks, not every night was a win but this was certainly the best patch of my life. Highlights include her struggling out of a sports bra and standing topless facing the window for an extended period of time. By far the best spot was late at night when I was back from a party seeing her presumably drunk mucking around in just knickers. I watched her go back and forth topless then she climbed on the bed on all fours revealing simple purple panties. I was literally praying for this to be a porn film moment and watch her reach under the bed for a foot long but no such luck.Sadly though due to poor luck and over eagerness on my behalf I managed to ruin my most successful. As she was talking she slipped her bikini bottoms to one side and positioned my big toe at her opening. I checked the windows for any signs of the wife. Nothing there. Crystal adjusted to slip herself onto my toe. I slowly wiggled it to see how she would respond. Her eyes closed and her mouth opened as she waited to feel good. It didn't take long. I kept massaging and she moved to press harder down. More than enough time had passed for my wife to return. We realized this and put the breaks on our session. I announced that I would go check things out and Crystal instructed me to return regardless of what happened. While I dried off she told me she wanted to play some more. I smiled and headed inside. I found my wife stripped naked and passed out on the bed. I wasn't sure if she had relieved herself but I wasn't going to wake her to see. I figured it was easier to clean up the sheets in the morning than to deal with her drunk. I tucked her in and turned off the lights.On my way back.
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But subconsciously he mind was processing and dealing with the image and ramifications of her husband wearing women's underclothes, and with that reality all of the sub questions that naturally arise. Was he gay, was he sick, was he something unlike the person she had married and loved, how long had this been going on, were their any other secrets, Aids, betrayal, lies, falsity. Suddenly the boy she loved, dated, and married was gone, in his place was a stranger, some one she did not know. Thank god they hadn't had kids. Who could she talk about this, NO ONE. Parking the car outside the apartment building, it suddenly dawned on her that they would have to talk about this. She wanted to know, she wanted answers. Feeling anger, as well as anxiety and frustration, well up in her, she walked quickly from the car to the building. Waiting for the elevator, for what seemed forever, her mind kept asking the same questions over and over; and as it did, the anger mounted. Striding.

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