She was 5'7'', 36 years old, blond hair, and 36 C breasts; they were an image of perfection. She was in very good shape, and exceptionably beautiful."...ell, I don't know..But, If you want me to, I will be glad to help. If thats OK with Rodney, that is. Mrs. Linx said.Rod Nodded. Mrs Linx and I smiled."OK then, Lets go to my room and get you dried off, and there is a lot more room in there. And by the way, call me Diana."Diana led us to her room. We walked in and she sat us down on her queen. He ducked into a store front through the shattered display window. She followed, trying to keep right at his heels in the gloom. It appeared to be a sporting goods store. He led her to the back, his shotgun pointing wherever he was looking, watching the aisles and display racks for any sign of movement. He reached the back wall and it’s collection of guns. He knelt next to the counter and whispered to her. ‘Stay here, behind the counter. Don’t move, don’t make a sound. Unless you see one of. Disbelief erased the anger as I wondered if I’d ever known her at all. I realized my hands were shaking as I fumbled through the clothes in the closet, thinking about the years after we were first married. She’d seemed so innocent…so untouched. Then she’d gotten the job at Cox, Jordan and Franklin and Heather had really come out of her shell then. Maybe she’d been cheating even then? Lord knows I’d been petrified I’d lose her to someone else. But Heather had always smiled and sworn I had. Normally I was/am very careful – letting my guard down got me in a position for this to happen. Sometimes, being a slut – like being a hooker – can be dangerous. This was one of the times.Also, those who have read some of the stories about my growing up, know that my father was very strict, very straight and, didn’t have a problem taking his little boy-slut to the ‘woodshed’ to try and whip my little ass straight. There was some arousal in that for him; many times he’d have a raging hard-on.