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I realized that I was slowly rubbing my nipple on the edge of the table as I leaned forward to eat. I let my hand drop to my lap and stroked my pussy....It was sore, but wet. Why was I wet again? Where did these feelings come from? Why did I keep thinking about the men and women that had used and abused me last night? Why did it turn me on?I cleaned up the dishes and sat on the couch with the envelope. I still had my hand between my legs rubbing my clit softly as I read the letter.Slave,Clean. One look at her and I was hooked, and I never regretted it a single moment. However, I was not unaware, even as we dated, that she was one of those women that could never be truly satisfied with only one man, or one dick in her life. She made that perfectly clear, and since I was truly in love with her already, I accepted that fact. I wanted Janet in my life, and as my wife, no matter what.While we were dating, she introduced me to two of the guys she'd been 'dating' (fucking!); two younger. More

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