P*rnstation
I pulled into the driveway at 5:58 p.m., tires crunching on the gravel. The porch light was already on, spilling gold across the steps. My pulse thumped in my throat, in my clit, in every inch of skin under the tiny sundress I’d chosen. No bra. No panties. Just thin white cotton that barely skimmed mid-thigh, the hem fluttering every time I breathed. Mrs. C had texted me at lunch: ~Door’s unlocked. Come straight in. Kid’s at Grandma’s.~