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Suddenly, the shackle on her right hand loosened and fell from her wrist. A few more sounds as the camera went off, and then the door opened. He held the door open for a few seconds, maybe to admire her, maybe to torment her. Maybe both. Then, as quickly as he had arrived, her husband was gone.
Michelle pulled off the blindfold, un-cuffed her other hand and stood up. She returned to the mirror. Unlike before, she was now topless, with her soaked and ruined panties pulled roughly to the side. Her mascara was running down her face. Her lipstick smeared all around her mouth. Cum was on her forehead, her face, her neck, tits, and belly. She was a mess. She smiled and took a selfie. She would share that with Tony one day soon. She again noticed the sounds of the porno on the TV behind her. She hit STOP on the laptop. "Those two have nothing on us."
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40 minutes later, Michelle walked into the hotel bar, hair in a ponytail, modest makeup on her face, wearing a light sundress. She approached her husband, who she last saw at home hours ago, sitting at the bar with 2 glasses of bourbon on the rocks in front of him. "Hey babe," he said, with a sly knowing smile on his face.
