I open the top drawer to find various socks, panties, thongs, and g-strings. I take out a thong and press it to my nose, inhaling, desperate to get a ...hiff of her, until now imagined, sex. She must be a good house-wife, because her thong is clean, I can't smell any pussy. I walk to the closet and slowly open the door. I am five feet away from her husband, who is sleeping quietly. I find a laundry basket, and still tucked into a pair of sweats, is a dirty thong. Jackpot! I press them to my nose. Her tone was strident, determined, and hurtful.“And as relates to me? Is he the main daddy? Is that what you’re trying oh so delicately to impart to me?” I said. I wasn’t quite snarling, oh hell, yes I was.“It’s a matter of perspective. But yes, that’s how he sees himself. He knows that you have a right to be in the babies’ lives. But he loves them too. So...”“So I get lip service and he gets to be the real daddy, not me, right?” I said.“It’s not like that. He will not get in the way of your. More

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