So I tend to rub my clit against something until I orgasm, like my bedpost, my pillow, my stuff animals, or the corner of my desk, just about anything...to get me off.This time I picked my bedpost. I placed my phone on the bed facing me. I positioned my slit on the corner of the post. As I read the story, I imagined myself in the story. I humped away until I was close to an orgasm, but I just couldn't get there. My clit was getting sore from rubbing on the post, so I had to stop.I have to go get. But deep down I knew they had been real, as real as her weekly assignations with Andy. Somewhere underneath those normal, everyday clothes, would be the physical evidence of her guilt.As I approached, she looked up at me and smiled.“Congratulations!” she beamed at me, her deep blue eyes sparking with delight. “You did it! They’re talking openly about another promotion soon. You’re the man of the moment!”“How do you know that?” I began.“Andy called,” she replied. “He’s thrilled of course, and. More

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