“It’s not your fault that you are slut, and are super-sensitive and super-aroused all the time.” Lindsay whispered, and I glared at her. I hated...her when she called me a slut. My inner-me and I were two different people. I wasn’t a slut. Well, technically I was, and my repressed behavior must have created this ‘inner-slut’ which I used to comfort myself that I wasn’t one. For a prodigy of medicine, one would know that repressed behavior meant they had a greater chance to have a split. Jim said he could see just a little bit of hair under the table, and from where that guy was, he could too.I asked Jim if he wanted me to cover up, and thankfully he said no. Our food came and this guy kept looking over at me, and now I could tell he was looking under the table. My pussy started getting wet, I was enjoying this guy looking up my skirt. I didn't say anything to Jim, but I spread my knees just a little bit.I was getting very suprised that this guys wife or girlfriend didn't. More

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