Bye Morocco
My husband's fingers were like guerrilla's in my pajamas, moving swiftly toying with my body parts. He had changed my position, now I sat on his lap watching him, looking at me with exasperation. Now my husband's focus turns to me, he is no longer staring at the television screen, it seems that there is something more promising than just the television screen.
Yeah, his perverted brain!
I faked a smile, covering the feeling of disgust that came slowly, his fingers had managed to open my pajama buttons. I quickly caught both sides of my shirt and put them back together in my hands, covering my chest. "This is the living room, don't tell me you want to do it here," I said in a panic tone looking left and right in the room.