The slut's moans grew louder, mixed with my husband's. I hadn't heard so much as grunt from him during sex the past few years. My skin grew hot, fiery...rage turning my pale skin a bright red. The computer room. The moaning was coming from there. Could Terry have been watching pornography and masturbating? It was possible, but then I realized that we had no speakers ... More anger. I tip-toed down the stairs, and made my clandestine approach toward the computer room, totally. She walked to the rail. Leaned over, looking around. She wore a shirt denim skirt and a spaghetti strapped pull over. Oscar pointed down between her feet. A single drop would splatter, it was as clear as water and 30 seconds later another drip hit the floor. She said, “where's Little Jim”? Oscar said, “near by I'm sure”. Paula said, “I need to nurse him”. Oscar laughed “I see”. She looked down, saw her wet drops, turned to face them and lifted her skirt. They saw her seam glistening, her inner. More

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