I always tried to be the perfect wife. I dressed nicely for my husband, let him fuck me anytime he wanted and made sure there was always a home-cooked meal on the table. Most importantly, I saved my body just for him like a demure wife would. Things changed when we decided to rent our spare room to a college student. The way he stared at my tits drove me crazy. I knew he wanted to devour me, and the thought made me wet every day. I tried to ignore my feelings and touch myself, but it wasn’t enough. I needed his fingers, his tongue, his dick. Soon, I found myself doing things I never thought I would, like smelling his shirts and rubbing them against my boobs and pussy, imagining he was touching me.
