He touches the front of my panties.“Oh look, you’ve wet yourself, baby. Are you excited?”“Mmmm….yes,” I squeak.He ...uts his finger in his mouth. “You taste good baby.”I bury my face in his shoulder as he teases my swollenpink clittie free at last of its confinement behind thelace-and-rhinestone panel of my bikini-style panties.“Feel good?”I wiggle my ass in his lap and whimper some more. Ohgod, does it feel good, whatever he’s. Anyway, my husband preferred me to sit in the far corner of the last pew of the church on Sunday mornings. That particular Sunday morning, as I dressed for church, I slipped into a white, Empire waist tunic top and a very short, white, cotton miniskirt with nothing on under them except for a very skimpy white lace g-string. It was new outfit. I bought it a few days earlier at my favorite clothing store, Fredericks of Hollywood. My husband had yet to see it because we stopped sleeping in the. More

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