Well, my tummy sunk and my shoulders slumped, my perky pokie breasticules of perfection sagged and my shower-head cunny turned as arid as Death Valley...and if any todgers had come visiting, I just know they would have shrivelled up and died. It was hideous.But the wardrobe of predictability knows bestest, so I pulled on the white/grey granny knickers, stuffed my breasticules into the white/grey full cup bra, pulled up the white/grey just below the knee socks, buttoned up the white/grey conceal. To Caitlin. And, given the nature of some of the images stored on his laptop, of some satisfaction to Ken—the apex of this triangle. When sleep eventually overwhelmed Caitlin in the early hours, the erotic image that remained with her was not of Ken’s penis thrusting into her but one of the more innocent photos on the laptop of an office party which showed Sonya smiling and laughing in the arms of one of her female colleagues. “It’s Sonya, isn’t it?” asked Caitlin the following day of the. More

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