(i)Carla chuckled; sheet glued to her skin as she tried to get out of bed.
The memories came flooding back, p***y fluttering while the scenes played over inside her head. The need for s****l relief was already rising. Carla thought about some personal time to start the day, dismissing the idea because she felt a little bruised down there.
Carla went to the bathroom, sighing as she looked at her reflection, dried c*m flaky on her skin, hair in disarray.
She stared into the mirror.
Muttered: “Don’t be greedy.”
Carla took a pee, then showered, mind full of what to do that day.
First off was stripping the bed—again, then launder the sheets—again, a necessary domestic chore, a precaution in case her husband came home. Unlikely, but Carla didn’t want to take the risk. She took enough chanc
