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. As you stepped back to take a look at my now collared neck. I couldn't say anything. My mouth was so dry. My crotch was so wet. My body was shaking harder now, in fright, disbelief and an unexplainable excitement.I watched as you reached down for your small pile of products. My eyes widened and I took a step back from you, "What... ? What are you doing?" My throat felt constricted. I clawed at the collar, wanting it gone. I took another step back. As I retreated, as you pulled, from your pile, a leather leash. Your smile turned sadistic.You didn't, to my amazement, seem to care who watched us. You hooked the leash in place on the D-ring of the collar. I think I wanted to wet my pants right there. Only the fact that every muscle in my body was tense, did I not do just that. Still... there was that other wetness I felt down there. That unexplainable, betraying wetness."I asked you to follow me before; you balked. You will, from now on, remain exactly one step behind me. Do you. I followed with the hamper and as I made my way to the steps, my stepdad looked at my mom and said, “Dear?”She smiled and nodded her head, which I figured must have meant that she had already been downstairs to clean up after the previous night’s fuckfest. I assumed, from his actions, he didn’t know I saw them when I came in last night. I assumed correctly. Of course, I wasn’t sure until much later.At the bottom of the stairs and into the hallway, I made my way to the laundry room and opened the door. The washer was running. There were four piles of clothes laid out on the floor to be washed; jeans, towels, whites, and mixed colors. It was when I noticed mom’s very flimsy black bra and bikini panties in the mixed color pile I got intrigued to see whether her panties were as sexually arousing to me as Mrs. Johansson’s had been the night before. I wasn’t disappointed.I pulled out the bra first, imagining my mother’s luscious orbs being caressed by the soft material. Flimsy as the bra.
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