“Her husband had said nothing since they had left home. Not a word. She in turn, had remained silent, watching the miles of suburbia as they headed out of North London in the light traffic of a Saturday evening. She looked, with a strange curiosity, at the mock Tudor in Woodford, the Mercedes in the driveways and the neat hedges. Inside those houses were women like herself, respectable and respected, putting their children to bed, their stockbroker spouses drinking after dinner whiskies. These women were different from her now though, and always would be from this night on. They hadn’t forced their husbands to drive out to a remote part of Epping Forest so that they could be fucked by men they had never met and would never meet again.”

by filthy beauty

Click here to read this story

<< Back to Collection

Share Share