For him; his love of his wife was still strong but he had begun fantasising about sucking cocks instead of eating cunt or fucking cunts. He almost won...ered if for some reason he was turning gay and because of this he refused to tell his wife of his latest sexy dreams.The last few dreams had always followed the same sort of pattern; he and Gloria had been out and about; he had been taken short and needed a toilet; finding a public toilet he had entered a cubicle and took his cock out and began. I never cared much for the wetting part, but the desperation, the moans of pain, the begging; that got me really wet! I had told Grant how I thought it would be hot to see a guy do that, but rather than wetting themselves they whipped their cock out and let go in a torrent of piss. Grant was giving me that fantasy, and he knew it would effect me.Grant's hand nudged my leg as he rubbed against his right leg. It still was hopping up and down as he fought off the need to pee. I knew it would be. He can cry all he wants. I'm so sorry I brought this jackass into your lives. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry..."Her voice seemed to be slowly drowned out by a bell that kept ringing and ringing, louder and louder... Sandy awoke and jerked up into a sitting position in her bed. She looked around herself dazedly, seeing the books and papers that surrounded her, which she'd fallen asleep reading last night. She saw Shakespeare's "A Midsummer Night's Dream" closest to her, and shook her. " Some of them? Do you remember how many?" Flick, flick. He frowned, replaying in his mind how he had frolicked in them. "Sevenor eight pairs, Mistress Tate." "Seven or eight? Which is it? Think carefully now, Cecilia." "I don't remember exactly, Mistress Tate. There were so many." "Heather and I counted nine, Cecilia." At the word "nine," she gaveone nipple an exceptionally fierce flick "You wore nine of my bestfriend's dirty panties." "Yes, Mistress Tate," he said in distress. He.