There was a naked boy tied to her bed. A naked boy encircled with rope, with a gag in his mouth, and rope wound tightly around his hard cock and swoll...n balls. He wasn’t struggling, and Marisol just stood there alongside her, naked as a jaybird, her hair brushed and neatly tied back, make up and ear rings on just like this was any other morning before school. “He looks nice, doesn’t he?” “I’m getting better at tying him up.” She said matter-of-factly. Then she started to giggle, and Anna did. The guilt of it was oozing out of my pores. I shuddered. My wife would know as soon as she saw me, of that I was certain. Women are like that, so fucking perceptive. It was a combination of guilt and terror at being found out that forged into revulsion at myself during the several hours of travel. It was late evening by the time I arrived in my home town and I went to the Office for a few minutes, as I often did, to make notes and complete any jobs requiring my immediate attention. I called. More

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