There was indeed no mistake. It starred Mum! I couldn't see everything he showed, but I saqw Mum come up on screen, topless, with strange decorations ...around her nipples, saying something to the camera. He flicked to other scenes.She was in some kind of medical chair in the next scene, naked, strapped in with her legs up and spread, locked in the stirrups. What seemed to be electrodes were clamped to her red distended titties, and Mum was having her clitoris mechanically extended by a device I. It wasn't feminine enough. I began to play withit."Cute."My heart stopped.I saw her reflection in the mirror. She was wearing a white silk blousewith a medium length red skirt. Her red lipstick matched her outfit andher dark eye shadow emphasised her dark eyes. Her hair was kept backwith a clip and her nails were painted red. It was John's mum.I didn't dare turn round. My legs trembled and I started to feel sick.I was wearing this woman's clothes. I was wearing this woman'sunderwear, in front. The venom where it hit first inflicted shoulder pain but then shifted to my heart and mind. Her, "Bitch, you, you fucking whore," curse echoed within. It all raised the question.Does anyone love me? Hubby was attracted to me because I was the innocent, young, exotic Oriental girl next door; inscrutable as he often said. Once married he wanted to trade me, a sex chip to bargain for other women by swinging. Now he’s in love with his business. Gary? How many girls did he take to Alviso’s train. I just knew I wanted him. Does this make me a slut? Probably. I decided that it didn't matter, and I did not care as nobody knew about us. We were both private people, and consenting adults. The only difference was the 16 year age gap. “Do I look like a slut?” The thought came to mind as I caught my reflection in the panes heading towards the gates. I wore a knee length charcoal pencil skirt, nicely pressed white collar blouse, black stockings, and charcoal pumps. Yes, you look.