12
Judge
When the s*x is done and we are both aching and smiling, I jump out of the hot tub, pull on my jeans, and go into the house. I return with a towel. “Come on, pretty lady. We have to keep your modesty intact, don’t we?”
She smiles at me wickedly, her cute elfin face lighting up. The sun is beginning to set, painting the bubbles in the hot tub light orange. She steps out of the tub and into the towel, which I wrap around her shoulders. It falls low, covering her to her shins. As soon as she’s covered up, I want to tear it away, but even the leader of the Satan’s Martyrs gets tired.
We go into the living room, around a small partition, and into the hideaway, where there is a long, wide couch sitting in front of a small electric fireplace. I turn it on and it hums, the faux-flames
