I should have been crying and dialing 911. But amazingly, I didn't feel like crying. I felt almost calm. My life was totally out of control and I didn...t even seem to mind!I walked to my bedroom and plugged my borrowed white noise machine in. I turned on the surf sounds and made sure it still worked. I left it on and went to take a shower.When I returned to my bedroom I got into my sleep shirt and I started to pull on a clean pair of panties. I suddenly remembered that I couldn't wear underwear. The bar is only four blocks away but my ass and legs are starting to shiver under my skirt as the cold air hits the bare skin above my thigh highs. I grin and bear it. The coldness is a necessary evil if we are to succeed with our little plan.The bar is like an underground speakeasy, known only to the locals and insiders. It's a very specific scene, mostly young educated 20 and 30 somethings. DJs with Ivy League educations and hipster entrepreneurs fill the comfy leather armchairs and sofas. For my part, I was wild horny again. Naked, sitting four feet from that little goddess as I relived my first fucking, while she jacked herself to oblivion, had me crazy in spite of my earlier sessions. I could barely walk to the bedroom and I collapsed on the bed. That bed where only hours earlier, Cindi had been stuffing Scotts rod in and out of her beautiful, petite pussy. I rolled in the sheets she had touched so recently. I was insane. I was like a schoolgirl who had a rockstars. “As of this moment, you have become an exhibitionist. You are going to masturbate for me. I’m going to expect it regularly. And after you’ve satisfied your need for an orgasm, I plan to fuck you until you cum some more.”Kathy didn’t say it, but she was delighted with her husband’s choice of words. He was almost what you would call ‘straight-laced.’ He always spoke of her breasts. But when he was highly turned on, he would say something about her tits. He seldom said fuck, but when he did it was.