My wife sat in her lingerie the other week, at this very computer. She's in her early forties, a stunning brunette with an arse to die for. She's 5ft 6 in her stockinged feet. She'd not had cyber sex before and it was my fault, encouraging her to chat with this guy who called himself Wing Commander. At first, I enjoyed the way she found it amusing - him asking her about her tits and whether she was shaven (she is) or not. I enjoyed watching her writhe in her frilly pink thong and flesh-cloured stockings as he described his massive prick to her. It was warm in the room and this is all she wore as I caressed her small breasts and erect nipples. "Wing Commander", who was a lot younger than my wife, in his mid twenties, really got her going and they soon slipped into a dom and sub role play where he was quite rough with her. She became very wet and every time I tried to kiss her she kept looking at the screen for his latest dirty instruction to her. She kept pulling away from me so she could type her next line to him. This went on for about ten minutes until she orgasmed loudly. After coming she sent him a load of kisses which made me jealous. Then she wrote him this poem about a fantasy she has where he meets her in a hotel room and actually carries out the role play they talked about. Here's her poem. It's a bit explicit. I wonder if he'll read it. She's hoping he will: The wing commander has her where he wants on all fours, in stockings and no pants her tartan miniskirt around her waist, her wedding ring a dice inside his fist. Like soft light bulbs her small tits sway, pale, with pegs attached to nips. Her bare cunt shines, his crabby hand slides into the labia’s rippling pool; she hides her blushing face in her palms. He walks away, leaves her in the pose; a clinical array of “toys” in his case – dildos, clamps, whips, cuffs … will keep her purse damp all night. Choosing a pink buttplug he parts her puckered anus, digs the greased end into its twitching eye. She dips her narrow back, lets out a cry as it slips in all the way… Next a slap, a hard one, across her stocking tops … then two more, one on each buttock. Now he cuffs her wrists behind her back. She hears a zip, a buckle, feels the tip of something big on her cunt lips. “Yesss!” The wing commander’s in, his balls slap against her thighs – she yells “My god! Oh yesss! Wing Commander!” Twice the length she’s used to fills her like a tide inside. He pushes, pulls her, rides her, tugs her dark mane behind her, comes in ten spurts inside her – bareback- rider, breaking in another wild mare’s crack. (He pulls out the plug. She farts. He roars then takes a photo of her shining arse).