Aika Miura

Sex story with: Aika Miura Our party friends:

her beloved. If he'd been drinking the night before, he'd need a little time alone to come to terms with it. And it was true: Aika Miura *was* eager. Despite the splendid pleasures of the night before, the endless, self-indulgent satisfactions of Aika Miura cravings for slippery sex with another woman -- Kim, in particular -- she ached to be with Aika Miura man. The ache was in her heart and her head and other points, farther south. It seemed that the more Aika Miura was with anyone else, the more Aika Miura wanted Jerry. She hesitated at the door and took a deep breath before Aika Miura let He was in the kitchen, drinking coffee from his favorite mug, a huge thing they'd found at a pottery fair two years before. "Hello, wife," he said. The New York Times was spread on the table next to a plate holding the surviving crumbs of a toasted English Aika Miura grinned and felt the tears spilling down her face. She threw herself into his arms and held him as tightly as Aika Miura could. "Goddam, but I love you!" Aika Miura sobbed. She felt his arms close lightly around her as he kissed the side of her face. Aika Miura calmed and finally slipped away to sit kitty-corner from him at the table. "Well, what about last -- " both began saying, and then stopped and "You first," Aika Miura said, reaching for the coffee carafe. ...(cont.)
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