She wanted to adjust her undergarments because it was chaffing on her swollen crotch. She stopped in the shadow of the big sycamore tree growing in th... corner. She started adjusting the fabric of her undergarment but stopped. She curiously slid her finger into her undergarment. She wasn’t going to touch herself, she just wondered about the sensations Melissa had built under the skin. It still felt like her pussy was glowing. Her finger smoothed between her warm and slippery lips. Surely she had. But what if it was even worse than that? What if her little fling had not ended on that night. Suppose she had continued to meet the younger man in secret, in the coming weeks, on those evenings when you were working late. If you were to think back, you might remember a few clues. Perhaps there was a strange pile of kleenex under the bed, curiously stiff panties in the hamper, a mangled brassiere in the mending pile.A whiff of men’s cologne on your pillow. And if you had come home from work. More

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