​     Once they were alone in their private suite, Helen began to immediately strip. 

     Trevor stopped her.

     "Let's go old school," he said. "Let's make out with our clothes on first, okay?"

     "Fine." Helen stretched out on the bed. She reached out for her husband.

     "Can we get any music in here?" she asked.

     "Any preferences?" Claudia responded.

     "You seem to be reading our minds pretty good. You decide."

     The room filled with the sounds of stringed instruments playing music soft and undulating, playing a melody Helen recognized but that she knew she had never heard before.

     "Perfect," Helen said as Trevor joined her on the bed. "Thank you, Claudia,"

     "My joy."

     They kissed, open mouthed. Trevor tasted the broove in his wife's mouth even as she sought out his bridgework with her tongue. 

     Trevor ran his hands all over his wife's body, but through what she wore, the thick cloth of her slacks, the softer fabric of her blouse. He felt her bra strapped over her breasts.

     Oh no, we can't have that, Trevor thought. He went to reach under Helen's blouse to unhook her bra, but her fingers were already there. She wanted her tits free as much as he did. He felt the loose weight around her hips, then lets his hands drop to grasp her plump butt cheeks. Those were my wife's hips I just felt, he thought, and these are my wife's butt cheeks. I am fondling the woman I love.

     They kept their lips pressed tight together, their tongues having a form of sex all their own. Her clitty shoved against his stiff prick through, like, four layers of clothing.

     Helen pulled her mouth away from his long enough to gasp.

     "Broove break?" she asked.

     Trevor would have preferred to continue, but, "Sure."

     "And then we'll get out of these clothes."

     "Now you're talking."

CONTINUE