"P-please, there's been a terrible mistake, I-I didn't do anything to those women, I was just in the wrong place at the wrong time and-" Emily begins ...to wildly explain, trying to stop herself from gagging from the warden's welcome fart."Shut it." Victoria cuts her off. "You were sentenced to 5 years here and that's that. It ain't my job to convict, it's my job to make sure ya'll don't kill each other in there." She leans in now "And as long as that don't happen, I don't care what else does...". I can’t restrain myself, and before I even realize what I doing, I reach between Wendy’s legs and twist her swollen pussy lips between my fingers. “Oh!” she exclaims. “Oh, Daddy. Fuck, yeah!” “Daddy?” the girl’s voice asks in heavily French-accented English. “Not her real Daddy,” I say defensively. The couple in the clearing are now sitting straight-backed with crossed legs and watching Wendy and I intently. “Please, keep going,” says the girl. I look at Wendy, who shrugs her shoulders almost. As I twisted and tugged at my bare breast, I reached over and grabbed a bottle of baby oil from a shelf. Breathing harshly, I started pouring the contents of the bottle all down the front of my pretty gown. Flipping the top closed, I dropped the container and started smearing the thick oil around my boob and down my stomach as I tilted my head forward to watch. "Fucking whore." I said aloud as I ran my spread fingers across my oily, rubbery nipple. As I did this, I lifted my bare breast to my. It was the final bit of attire to complete my look. I took the wispy, black, spaghetti-strapped dress and slid it down my body, over the black silk bra and black bikini panties. It ended about 6 inches above my knees. The ensemble was completed by my black, three-inch heeled dancing shoes.It had been almost two years since the anniversary on which I nearly lost my marriage. Six months of therapy had gotten us to a point where it was even better than before the event. The event. Sounds clinical.