’‘Don’t say anything else, Miss Borst, or you may incriminate yourself.’She started to cry, quietly. I hate it when women turn on the tears.�...�Do you need a moment to compose yourself?’She nodded and headed to the kitchen. I followed closely. When she got to the worktop, she reached out for a knife. I grabbed her arm, squeezing it tightly.‘Ow. You are hurting me,’ she wailed.‘Put the knife down,’ I commanded.She dropped the knife.‘Sorry, officer, but I was just tidying up. I hate things to. He started by making the usual moves, the ones that ten yearsof marriage had honed. His touch, his mouth, his fingers visited every partof her, arousing and stimulating her. It was so frustrating! She knew thatshe was so very turned on, so desperate to feel him take her, but every timehe let his fingers explore her now locked pussy, they reminded her afresh thathe wasn't ever going to slip into her again. The feel of his fingertips asthey traced the edges of her closed labia was such exquisite. More

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