My clitoris and opening now feeling the cool breeze of the ceiling fan. Whats this? His fingers ran from my clit to my anus. Youre soaking wet! He lau...hed heartily, What a fucking whore you are! Did you like it that much? Should I punish you more? He was practically yelling at me as he laughed. Please, no. I cried quietly, my face red. I was already so embarrassed. I really am disgusting. He looked down and saw my favorite toy beside my pillow. He grabbed it up and turned it on the lower. I’m not the woman he fell in love with. That’s what he sees in that tart Leila. I used to look just like that. I was his girl from Inglewood. Now I was a bitter, old, overweight nagging wife. I lay on our marital bed and I touched myself. I was wet and I could feel my clit pulsating. I breathed slowly and heavily as I gently stroked my clit. It felt so good to feel sexual pleasure. It had been a long time since I had touched myself and months since my encounters with Jean Paul. I inserted a. More

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