Janet's shirt is packed with muck. Muddy water runs down her tummy in rich brown rivulets.Tears of frustration well up in Janet's eyes. She repels the... and their accompanying thoughts of self-pity by embracing the concept that she is on an adventure. This is not a bland undertaking, like a day on a quiet marsh stalking wildlife with cameras. Janet realizes that she can remain the sniveling victim of this storm, or she can make her way through it like a goddess of the forest. Get going, get. The other night (while we had the house to ourselves) she approached my about her panties. " What are you doing with my panties?" she said. I played dumb for a bit, then figured I would confess, although I know she is aware that I sniff them...I reminded her of the night a few years ago when I confessed that I had a fetish for her panties. She said she vaguely remembered, but wanted to know more. I told her I was not cheating on her and that I just really enjoyed sniffing her panties,. That was the key I needed , I quickly pulled my trousers down and off and bent over showing my perv , my bum , which was quite nice in those days, "wonderful" he said , I pulled the the panties on and my cock tented them out obscenely , the feeling was as electric as the colour of the panties , I felt like a total wanton slut.My watcher tried again to coax me over , but I was still nervous , so I just danced about waving my cock , flashing him and getting more and more slutty and worked up ,. ‘You’ve always been one for the specifics,’ he chuckled, clapping him a bit hard on the back. ‘No… really. What ones did you find?’ His voice picked up a nervous tone and seemed a bit worried, something that was unusual for the Turks’ resident trickster deity. ‘…We were wondering if there were more of them.’ He chuckled again. ‘The ones with the sombrero-thing.’ ‘So, uh, anyone else you found pics of? Or just her?’ ‘Well no one’s brave enough to go near your laundry, so I bet those are still.
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