” I panted out, “I do.”“He also sent Me a picture that He took last night.” She confessed. “do you wanna see it? Do you want to see one of...the things that He did to your whore-of-a-wife?” I slowly began moving my still-firm dick inside her pussy again and had to admit it:“Yes” I said, “YES. I want to see.”She took the phone, made a few swipes and then handed it back. I had to really focus because I had a hard time even recognizing my own wife. Her eye makeup was running, and her lipstick was. There would be little cards stuck up in phone boxes all over central London that I would ring but then chicken out of going to. Then, one night, I lost my hooker cherry.Drinking with friends in Soho all night had left me drunk and, coincidentally, alone after we all went our separate ways. I walked towards Picadilly to get the night bus and wandered past the famous Soho 'model' doorways. I paused and thought about it. Fuck it. I headed into the brightly lit corridor and to the rickety staircase. More

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