But wait; let me get back to reality here. Isabella sat across from me, wearing a black skirt. Not too long. Not too short. That skirt was just right....Beneath it, she wore a pair of black hosiery that complimented her athletic legs. I couldn't tell if they were stockings, or leggings, or pantyhose, but hey, I am a man, and none of that really matters. I still can't tell the difference between yoga pants and leggings. I just know how they frame an ass! Above the skirt she wore a red sweater with. I arrived home, it was breakfast time. I’d been at JB’s all night. A party. It had been a great party, I almost had bowed legs. I’d been fucked by God knows who. I really needed to get a grip of myself, I was doing things that I knew I shouldn’t. A month ago I was an almost happily married mother of two teenagers. Now one of those teenagers was taking dirty picture of me, filming me, with his mates as I masturbated. He sold the pictures, they were on the web, so were some of the films. If that. More

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