Watching the time-lapse at the fastest speed possible, I almost missed the scene that's burned so deeply into my memory now:Alexa walks into the laundry room, shuts the blinds. She listens at my side of the house for a moment, as if to make sure I'm definitely not home. Then, almost suddenly, she unbuttons her tight jeans. She leans against the washer, testing the knobs. As the water fills the basin inside, she sits on top, peels her pants down to her ankles. Her left hand works its way down her body toward the line of her panties, and her right hand reached under her shirt to where I could just make out that she wasn't wearing a bra.The video has no sound, so I can't hear anything as her lips part ever so slightly, and her eyelids flutter. She keeps that slow pace for a long, long time, the fingers of her left hand pushing the dark spot on her underwear that becomes more and more defined with each passing moment.When the spin cycle starts on the washing machine, she repositions her. Her twin braids fell on either side of my face. I lifted one to my lips and kissed it. I could feel her breasts, so soft and firm under her muslin gown, pressing against my scalp. "Mmm here is a close up of us kissing. You have such pretty lashes, Daddy." I tugged at her braids to bring her lips to mine. Her kiss tasted of the sugary cake frosting she had been nibbling at, and the non-alcoholic champagne she had been sipping since we returned from the chapel. "I love you, Mrs. Conlin," I said. She said she liked the sound of that, but returned quickly to the wedding photos. I stood and went to the dresser to pour myself another glass of champagne, from a bottle of the real thing I had decided to treat myself to, and looked at her from across the room, in profile as she leaned over the back of the recliner. The slit of her gown opened to show the front of her legs. I saw the muslin fabric d****d over her ass and filling the line that separated her cheeks. Her hips swayed slowly back.
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