Late Home
Angela arrived home after a night of debauchery. Her husband loved her for it.
Angela made a beeline for the bathroom, at three in the morning it was her Friday night ritual. Normally, she'd wash, brush her teeth, and then climb into bed. I needed a piss, so I joined her. "Good night?" I asked. She was busy with the toothbrush, but the deep crimson handprints on her backside almost glowed in the dark, and I noticed her legs were crossed. I smiled, finished pissing, and made my way back to bed. Momen...