This was a different woman. The business suit and sensible shoes were gone. In their place, she was wearing a cupless corset of black leather, fingerless, black lace gloves that extended nearly to her elbow and a pair of shiny, thigh-high boots with four-inch heels. I’m sure I could not conceal the fountain of lust that was building inside me. My cock grew hard enough to cut diamonds just looking at her. Holy shit, this wanton slut – this was my wife? “Like it?” she purred. Her massive, unrestrained tits bobbed seductively as she strode over to the bed in her heels, her meaty nipples hard and erect. “Hell, yes,” I croaked. I couldn’t believe my eyes. “I thought I told you to lay down,” she said, pushing me back on the bed. “Yes ma’am,” I said. “Mistress,” she said firmly, reaching for the cuffs. “From now on, you shall call me Mistress, or you will feel the sting of my crop.” Ha! The sting of my crop. Nice – she’s really getting into this role-play thing. Without warning, she whacked. Still, I knew I would miss her, and that the loneliness of being on my own would be truly felt.Watching Chrissy grow up from the shy, sad little teen-age girl who had lost her mother into the outgoing, vivacious young woman she'd become was something I was truly proud of. Sure, we'd had our ups and downs, being both father and mother hadn't been easy, and it had even been a little uncomfortable at times, especially when we'd finally sat down and had the big "Birds and Bee's" discussion. But I had made it a point then, and forever afterwards to be frankly honest with her during those discussions, or when she'd had questions, or even needed advise. I was relieved to hear that her intent was to remain a virgin, even when I took her to start her on the pill. She'd been candid enough with me then to inform me that though she had no intention of sleeping with anyone until and unless the right guy came along, she still wanted to be on the pill and responsible when and if that ever.
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