She looked at her phone and saw 15 missed calls from my, her husband. She was crying, wondering how she could explain the time away.She dressed and d...parted, a broken and sore woman. She would drive to the pharmacy, get morning after pills, clean her self more, try to cover sex smells she tried to wash off with more perfume and come in at 4 AM. I was sitting at the kitchen table, glaring at her. "Where have you been bitch?" Charlotte got defensive, "you cant talk to me like that, you have. The next thing I knew my own cock was hard, straining against my jeans. But I was trying to keep looking distant and disinterested. The kind of look you see from people on a subway train—that vacant stare at nothing; despite the fact that in this case a comely girl is giving a guy a hand job five feet from me. She had to have seen my hard-on protruding, though what was poking at my pants nothing compared to the piece of meat that kid had. It had a large bulbous head on it and looked like it. More

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