She waits for him, sitting in the darkened room, her robe thrown open, the breeze from the open window caressing her goose marked skin. Her fingers slide down her body, a blind man reading Braille, seeking the words etched in her flesh.
Breathe in, breathe out. The smell of her sex invades her nose, she feels an aching throb between her legs as they part to welcome fingers traveling down, down, down…
She tilts her head back, hair spilling onto naked shoulders as her hips arch in response. Her fingers stop mid-air as she hears the key turn the lock, her heart begins to race…
“Honey” he says, “I’m home”….
Confessions of the Girl Next Door 