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I moved a hand above her brow and swept back some of the hair that had fallen over her faces, tucking it back behind her ears tenderly with my index finger.“Do you want to tell me what happened?” I asked softly.A few moments passed and I thought she wasn’t going to answer. She sobbed. She put her face in her hands and started to cry again. As I slipped my arm around her again she sagged against my body, laying her head on my shoulder. Her eyes were closed and tears were streaming down her lovely face again, running off the edge of her cheeks and falling onto my t-shirt. With my other hand I rubbed at her right arm, softly caressing the smooth, warm skin. It seemed to be making her feel better and it was certainly having an impact on me, too. My dick was being totally inconsiderate. She said it is two months since Vishal visited her. I opened my mouth to tell her everything would be okay and I said because of work he may be busy I am there and if u need anything tell me. She slipped. She had also reached an exactunderstanding of everything. She had concluded that while she was atwork I was keeping a variety of women in the house during the day, aslut who wore leather minis and tight tubes and cutoffs, abusinesswoman who wore severe suits, a housewife whose tastes ran tosundresses and flowered prints, and from all the drawers billowing withsexy lingerie, a whole whorehouse full of high class call girls.When I got home my life ended, my life as it had been up to thatmoment, anyhow. In a tight voice she demanded to know who thesebitches were, and how I dared bring them under her roof. Incoherent,humiliated, mortified, hysterical with fear, tearful and stammering,for the next two solid hours I desperately tried to persuade her ofeverything I had been trying to hide from her ever since our honeymoon,the unacceptable truth about me. I pointed out that all of the clothesand shoes were of one size, mine. All that proved to her was that mytaste in the women I.
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