”I grab two cold ones from the fridge and reluctantly start making my up the stairs while trying to figure out what’s going on. What am I missing ...ere? First, Sam sends me to the neighbors to check about the kids and before I know it I’m walking back carrying a purse. Then there’s the letter where she calls me a slut. And now I get home where she’s insisting on needing a whore. We’ve discussed role-playing in the past but, for some reason, never seem to follow through with it. But nothing to. Yeah, like that. Okay. Turn your head, look at me—yeah, big smile, just like that . . . and, there. Atta girl.’ More digital camera sounds. Great. Now I was sleazy 70s porn. Who cared. I felt fantastic. He was happy, so I was happy. I brought my head to the floor, resting on my cheek so I could still look back at my beloved husband, and fingered my clit. I giggled. ‘Am I glossy?’ I asked. ‘All those girls look glossy when they do this. Their slits all shiny.’ He smiled. ‘Wet as a river.’ I. More

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