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But I still held out the slightest glimmer of hope that it was someone else. It couldn't be my Richard–it just couldn't!Even though every fiber of my being was telling me not to investigate this–that I wouldn't like what I would find–I had to see for myself. I needed confirmation one way or another. If it was Richard, I would have to find a way to deal with it. And if it wasn't, I could breathe again.I slowly and quietly tiptoed up to the door which was closed down to about a six-inch-wide crack that I could peek through. What I saw through that crack confirmed my worst suspicions. There, laying on his back on the bed, was my husband. He was naked laying so that he could have seen me had he looked over towards the door.But he wasn't and he was far too deep in his own lustful passions to notice me even if he was. Straddling him and riding him cowboy style was our Maria. She had her rather large tits pushed into his face where he was happily licking and sucking at the creamy melons,. Every time he came over, I waited my parents to leave so I would jump on his lap straddling him so I could tickle fight him. It was just an excuse I found for me to get closer to him, to feel his hands touching my body and for me to touch him too. When we got tired, or one of us won, I would climb off and we would watch a movie and eat pizza and then I would go upstairs to go to bed. It was always like this, except for that last friday.I was in our living room, laying on my stomach in the rug with a pillow watching a movie when Cole got there. I had already put my sleep clothes on, a light blue cotton nightgown with small pink flowers on it, and short sleeves. I was enjoying the movie so much that Cole sat on the couch and just watched with me and after the movie ended, we ordered pizza and just talked about our favorite parts of it. It was a little before my bed time when I told him we had to have our tickle fight since it was already a tradition, and jumped on top of him to play.
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