“Come,” she said to me. “I think one of the boys left a spare somewhere.”
I thanked her, wiped my face clean. I shivered as I followed her. She had collected her things from the other booth, but hadn’t put them on, so I had a free view of her ass and smooth legs as she walked in front of me, swinging her hips in a way that seemed obscene from a priest in a church on the day of my sister’s wedding.
On our way I heard something dripping on the stone floor. It was my load leaking out of her.
In her office I had to wait while she cleaned herself, not really noticing me. She smiled at herself in the mirror when she was ready. In a wardrobe, large enough for me, she found a pair of old but serviceable pants. She stood around waiting while I did the best I could to clean myself and my underwear. They were drenched in front. I could feel them sticking to my skin.
She placed herself in front of me, commanding me to sit down, the pants still in her hand. I looked up at her perfection. She told me that I could use the back entrance.
“But you,” she said as she stood in front of me, me still in my dirty underwear. “You have a lot of confession to do. Sinful boy.”
“Yes,” I said. I knew it wholly in my heart. And the day wasn’t over yet.
What the fuck was happening to me?
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