During last week, Camille had told me that her husband Rob would be out on Saturday at the football with his work friends. Camille had told me that Ro... was a big non-league football fan and that he had tickets for a match which was outside of London. Camille told me that he would be leaving early with his friends and that she was going to be home by herself. On Saturday morning I waited around the corner to where Camille lived. As always I waited for Rob to leave with his friends before going. My veins were throbbing with sultry heat, my belly felt as tense as a coiled spring. Aroused, exhilarated, I wandered naked along the rows of brassieres and corsets and garter-belts and bustiers and luscious, gleaming panties, my head spinning like a vortex. I was drowning in a whirlpool of shame, bliss, and guilt.And longing. Longing; vast and endless.Reaching the end of that tunnel of forbidden pleasures, I arrived at the Alcove. The Alcove was my Mother's private dressing room, a little. More

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