‘Oh, god, baby…’ Nicole’s car door opened. The latch on her trunk popped. ‘What’s she doing?’ Stephanie whispered. I looked slightly b...hind the tree. Nicole was wearing knee-high boots and a mini-dress. Her back was to us as she unloaded two (!!) rolling suitcases for the two-night stay. ‘She’s coming this way,’ I said. ‘Oh, shit,’ my wife said, unhinging herself from me. She turned and looked around the tree. Nicole had abandoned her bags to tramp up the stairs – to announce herself and see. The sick perverted pleasure that she derives from this is, to some I suppose, quite shocking. It is something, however, that she knows full well keeps me fixated upon her, totally fixated! It has been about seven months now. Seven whole months have passed since my sexual orientation or appearance even remotely appeared normal. Nothing is normal now, I mean, not normal to most. But I now feel so wonderfully normal. My role in life has actually never felt so normal. The constant degradation. More

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