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“Even though I was expecting you, Pete, sweetheart, I’d still know you anywhere. As soon as Ann was moved to Great Ormand Street, we moved here from Sandmouth Bay to be close to her. It never occurred to me that such a mess leading to what happened to you was left behind us. I knew Gerald went back to Devon to give evidence at Bob Porter’s trial, but I was too tied up in the vigil waiting for Ann to wake up from her coma that I never really gave a thought to what the trial was about. And Becky here was only six years old then and needed looking after.”“And then your husband moved abroad, Mrs Jay? Sorry, that’s what I always called you. I feel disrespectful calling you by your first name.”“Why not call me Mrs D, Pete?” Sheila suggested with a smile, then continued after Pete smiled his slow smile and nodded, “Yes, Gerald must’ve known he was living on borrowed time, or else stuck it out hoping that Ann would never wake up. So, as soon as Ann did wake up, some six months after the coma. It was too much for me to take in and I had to look away before I came everywhere. I started to respond to Stacy to tell her how amazing it all was when I noticed I still had one more message. I had been so caught up in the pictures I hadn't even noticed the other text. It was from a number I didn't recognize. Curious, I opened the message. It was attached a picture of Stacy with her legs spread on the bed. Her pussy was bright red and swollen. There was cum everywhere. Some was leaking out of her cunt and more was on her body. Her thighs were stained and I could just make out some all the way by her bunny ears. The caption was "Your girlfriend at the end of the night". She had been thoroughly used like the perfect little slut I wanted her to be. I, of course, texted her how much I loved her. ---------------- Stacy spent most of the next day getting rid of her hangover. She filled in some of the details for me from the night. I guess that guy I had listened to her give head to was.
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