" Some luck," I muttered as she led me back into the bedroom."I'm going to leave you alone to get dressed. Try not to snag your nylons with those fing...rnails. And call me before you put on your top, I've got some breast forms for you. Ta ta," she said, closing the door behind herself before I could respond.This really sucks, I said to myself as I surveyed the feminine finery on the bed. With a sigh, I tossed the bathrobe on the floor and morosely picked up my new panties, which were white with. Up way past his bedtime, the collector, my original mark, and the tormentor and rapist of my beloved, was snoring fast asleep in his favorite leather club chair inside his private black museum. I crept up to him and held the gun an inch from his head but it just didn't seem sporting to kill my penultimate arch rival that way. So instead, I took a last good look around to admire his collection of stolen art and quietly closed his vault door shut, locking it securely on him. Even if he jumped on. But I could wait, I was in an awesome mood, because it was a Thursday. Thursdays used to suck -- they were the worst day of the week; they're near the end of a tiring workweek, and you still have to drag your ass out of bed one more time. But now, though, Thursdays are the best weekday ever. Why? The simple answer: Girl Scouts.My phone didn't beep in response until I sat on the bus. I tapped the face, and brought up the message. "Just got home," my wife wrote. "You?" She'd been on the road home. .there was a also a neighborhood k**. She wasn't always home alone and sick...Well... now she has a new job...screwed a new guy she worked with because he made her laugh and Well...her new boss, which turned into an two year fuck and suck after work. Guess what? She let him cum in her mouth and even swallowed on occasion. Guess he wasn't very forceful.There was one week that it was entirely possible she fucked four different guys in the same week. Me and the three mentioned above. There were.