I’ve picked up the primitive, instinctive ability usually found in prey creatures to warn of predators during our short time together. The sound of approaching footsteps brings me out of my doze to full alertness in a single second. Denied the use of my eyes, both by the bag over my head and by the fact I’m shut up inside your fucking closet, my ears strain to pick out sounds I can use to fill in the details. It’s definitely two pairs of feet. Your steps are light and gentle. The other steps are heavier and almost certainly belong to a man.
I listen to you tell your companion that your husband is gone for the weekend and that you’ve waited a long time to fuck him on your marital bed. Your voice is quite clear despite the muffling effect of the bag on my head and the closet door. Your promise of a treat for him when he’s given you what you need sends a cold spike into my soul. I have a very good idea what that treat might be and the thought of enduring yet more degrading sex at the hands of one of your friends doesn’t fill my heart with fluffy fucking bunnies.