A Week in the Life of

The next morning, Carrie sent two more links. One, for the master bedroom. Another in the living room, looking into the kitchen. Between the three, it gave you a pretty good glimpse into Carrie's new life. There were rules of course: no recording, and it could never, ever be shared with anyone.

She and your dad slept naked each night, their bodies intertwined. She usually woke up early to give him a blowjob, her soft wet mouth coaxing him awake. Then he'd fall back asleep, and after freshening up, she'd make breakfast. She'd obviously discovered Cathleen's recipes, having never had any previous aptitude in the kitchen.

After breakfast, she and John would shower together. You could never quite make out the conversation, but there was always plenty of giggling and moaning from Carrie.

After John left for work, Carrie would work out. Mondays and Wednesdays she had yoga. Tuesdays and Thursdays she swam and did workouts to work on her ass. Saturdays she and John would go to play tennis or golf. Friday nights they went to AA. Sundays were church. They watched movies together made before Carrie was born. You'd always wondered: would your dad adapt to Carrie, or vice versa? The answer was clear now.

They fucked, of course, often. The Viagra pills were on his nightstand each night. But while he'd give her a good drilling every few nights, more often they made love. His long, fat cock working in and out slowly, his heavy balls draped against Carrie's asshole. Kissing, moans, two lovers in complete tune with one another. The first time you saw it, your angst got the better of you. You turned it off and took a long walk to clear your head. But then it started to normalize for you, and like a moth to the flame, you started to crave it, seeing them mate in such a sensuous, intimate manner. God, this is so fucked up, you thought. But you wanted it so badly.