He had held my hand, as the doctor had told me about my injuries, the things they had done, to safe my life. We would never have kids; the scars would...last a lifetime. Just one day later, David had asked me to marry him. Happy, and more of a bit scared, I had said yes. Soon after I had been discharged from the hospital, back home to our flat. Still recovering, I hadn't noticed at first. The way he looked at me, treated me, never touch me. He would come to bed late, get up early. Yes, he fixed. You know, I’d like you to cream over my face. Yeah. It’s my cream. You can pipe your hot load over my shapely ass next time, fucking drench my leotard. I’ve got a taxi home many a night with a big damp spot still on my tights, leaking through to my tight knickers. In fact after one encounter with three burly guys my tights were so drenched in their cum that I had to take them off and ring them out before I went home. You know you’d still prefer me over your other half even if they wore the same. More

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