Looking around, I soak in the brick facade of her home, exactly as I had envisioned it from the house plans she had sent me. I smile wryly to myself. ...oaking it all in? Or just summoning the courage to actually move to the door. Probably a little of both, but I've come too far to back away now. Laughing softly, I stride purposefully to the door and ring the door bell. I hear the click of heels on the floor, louder and louder until the door finally swings open and you finally stand before me in. I had never objected or raise any issues with this arrangement. As a matter of fact very little was ever said at all, by me or them. I don't want to suggest that I was ever forced to do anything, but there was some fear in the back of my mind that they might tell my husband if I stopped. I was thinking of just not showing up one night, but I was afraid they'd just come to the house pounding on the door waking my husband up. What would they say, "get your wife, we need to fuck her." Could you. More

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