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Chapter 25 by Philip Screwdriver Philip Screwdriver

Is she?

Going a step further

“Erin,” I ask quietly, “forgive me if this is too personal, but it doesn’t sound like your husband is interested in you sexually the way he should be. Am I right in thinking that?”

Equally quietly, Erin replies, “You’re touching my thighs and staring at my panties, and I know they’re pretty see-through.” Well, that answers that question, I realize. “It feels pretty personal, but it’s a little late for me to complain.” She falls silent. I wait, working on her leg muscles. She heaves a huge sigh. “No,” she admits. “No, he isn’t. We haven’t had sex in . . . I don’t know how long.”

“He’s tearing you down,” I observe. “He’s lying to you, telling you you’re losing your looks. You said you did that boudoir shoot for your husband—did he appreciate it?”

Erin’s face twists. There’s pain in her voice as she says, “He never even looked at it.” She grabs the hem of her dress in both hands and wrings it. This has the pleasant side effect of fully uncovering her panties.

“Erin, you’re a beautiful woman being sexually starved and starved for affection,” I tell her, looking her in the eyes. “If you’ll let me, I’d like to go a little further than just your thighs—I’d like to give you some of the pleasure you’re being denied. I won’t take anything off, I won’t go any farther than you want, I’ll stop any time you say. If you just want me to stroke you through your panties, I’ll just do that. If you want to go further, I’ll be glad to. This is all about you.”

I can see the struggle on her face. She doesn’t feel she ought to let me do anything, but she wants it desperately. “Your husband is neglecting you,” I say softly. “He’s refusing to care for you and meet your needs. How can he object if you look to someone else to meet them?”

Erin is silent for a few more moments. Finally, her voice thick with emotion, she says, “Touch me. Make me feel like a woman again. I need it—”

I decide to begin as simply as I possibly can. I start stroking her slit with my thumb. A soft smile lights her face. I’m surprised and pleased to find the thin lace already growing wet.

What do I do next?

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