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Mary Ann's heart was beating harder than she could ever remember. She lay mostly naked, spread across her plush, king-sized bed with each arm and leg tied to a bed post. The only clothing she had on at this point was her black skirt, glasses, and a thin silk scarf across her breasts, her nipples still tingling beneath. There was just enough slack for her to squirm in her restraints. Her mind raced covering a multitude of questions. How long until the kids came home? Was this situation in any way a good idea? How long until Alan returned and did she hear what she thought she heard from him? Probably most importantly, how on earth did she allow herself to wind up in this glorious position?

Mary Ann was in her mid 30's. I had first met her when I moved to the neighborhood a few years ago, following my divorce. At the time, she was married living with her husband, 2 kids and 2 dogs. She was a pretty lady, but at that point in time, I would have described her as "matronly." In spite of life and responsibilities catching up with her, she still had a gorgeous smile, beautiful blue eyes, and pretty shoulder-length sandy-blonde hair that framed her facial features well. She was about 5'7".

The whole Dermer clan was always nice to me when I saw them, and seemed to be your picture perfect midwestern family. However, I started to get a little suspicious that something was up around Thanksgiving. The husband, Mike, would frequently show up on his back porch, sitting in what appeared to be deep thought—almost sullen—smoking a cigar. ...

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