Then he held out his hand and told me to hand him my clothes. “What?” I said, confused. “I said take off your clothes, Tammy. This is the las... time this weekend you will be wearing anything at all.” I just sat there dumbstruck. “What about the guys who drove up in those trucks? Where are they?” “The boys are anxiously waiting for your arrival, inside.” I slipped off my top and my shorts, panties and bra, and gave them to my husband. He had a devious look on his face as he watched me. She must have heard him coming because she got up. The first thing he saw was the way her pajama panties were wedged in her vagina, her woman’s place. His eyes didn’t stray there long. Her face needed his attention. Because she’d been crying there were little rivulets of partially dried water that meandered down her cheeks. She’d neglected to wash her evening’s make up off, and the little trickling streams were highlighted by un-wiped mascara. That wasn’t what held his attention though. It was. More

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