” “Hmm, I never though of that. Sort of displacement therapy.” And they both laughed. She saw him to the door. He hesitated, his hand upon the ...andle. “Look,” he said, “I expect there’s some deep and binding laws against it, but could I phone you sometime? I mean I’d like to see you again, but not, er, professionally, if you know what I mean.” She almost laughed at the look on his face. Like a guilty schoolboy looking for mercy but expecting none. “Mr Farmer!” she said, and thought she saw him. I had to stifle my cries with my hand, the elderly couple seemed intent on looking out of the window and appeared to pay me no attention. My hand was soaked and I looked down between my legs to see a largish wet stain on the seat. I reached in to my bag and wiped my fingers on a tissue, and then wiped the excess cunt juice off my thighs. I had a wonderful feeling of relief and fulfilment, and continued my journey home, feeling on top of the world.I came to the conclusion that this permanent. More

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