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One time in summer when I came home later and she was already back from the gym, Amanda had just left. She had waved me a hello through her car window...with a cute smile on her face. She’s a looker and she knew it. When I let myself in, I heard a moan from our bedroom. I stormed upstairs. The bedroom door was open. What greeted me from our bed was my wife in white garters, on her knees, head on the pillow, eyes closed and her ass sticking out. In her asshole stuck a little humming pocket rocket. He’d basically lost control of his drinking in the last year or so, but drowning himself only made it worse. Bitch-woman was mostly a memory these days—more of a relief than anything else, and he wished her good riddance. Since finding his mother’s body as a kid, Linden was aware that he was a bit fucked in the head. Life hadn’t been a picnic for him—in fact—it had kind of been like his own little hell. Not that he hadn’t sought help, because he’d been there too. Five years ago, he’d mustered. More

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