When I woke up, Jim and Lexi were gone, as usual. I could hear Roger in the kitchen. I lay there, hesitant to get up and go downstairs. The night before, all pretense had been lost. My son had fondled my p***y, and I'd let him; hell, I'd enjoyed it. The second man to ever touch my s*x was my son. I'd shut him down, harshly, from; fear of getting caught, fear of my own lust, fear of how much I'd enjoy it, shame at cheating. I'm a mess.
He was downstairs in the kitchen. I had to get up. I can't hide.
As I looked at my naked form in the mirror, I wondered what Roger would be wearing - and what message he'd be sending by his choice of attire.
I pulled on a pink thong, a pair of athletic shorts, a bra (which I really don't need), and a T-shirt: collectively, a choice that was intended to rei
