Having stepped out of it she hung it on the hanger and then added her jacket to it. With a huge sigh of relief she pushed her tights down over her hip... and then sat down beside her bag to remove them from her legs. Feeling the air around her flesh was so refreshing after several hours at her desk, even if it was warm air. Reaching behind her she unfastened the clasps of her bra, not that she really needed one and as she shucked it from her shoulders she felt a trickle of perspiration run down. All the evidence against her was circumstantial, except for her confession. But the doctor explained that she had false memories. She had a false memory about the policeman being her boyfriend because she WANTED to think of him as a boyfriend. And we all agreed that just about anybody in her situation would WANT to kill her rapist. But that doesn't mean she did. What if that was a false memory? What if she believed she'd done it because she WANTED to kill him? It's perfectly reasonable to. With an earth-shattering moan, I started bucking, and blasted cum all over myself; no one touched my cock at all the whole time, although the frequency of my pounding reached a fever pitch while I was getting fucked, and a moment later, I felt my ass fill up with warm jizz (I'm on PrEP, don't worry).As if taking myself cumming as a cue, the next half hour was, seemingly, every guy who came over fucking or mouth fucking me until they, too, came either inside or on me. This was probably my. I shifted slightly. As I did so, I must have grimaced: my arm had started to ache a little. Alicia noticed and said, ‘Are you hurting? Let me get you a pain pill.’ She got up and went into the bathroom. She came back with my pill, gave it to me, and got back into bed. We snuggled down into our usual sleeping posture: Spoon-fashion, on our right sides, with Alicia wrapped around me. As I fell asleep, I heard her whisper, ‘I love you, darling husband.’ * * * It was the middle of May and I was.