Over the next few days, I kept using my fake breasts, but only when noone was home. If anyone were to catch me, I don't know how I'd explainit. Eventu...lly, I grew tired of the fake boobs, realizing that was allthey were: fakes. Still, knowing that TG was currently impossible, Itried to find a way to make my breasts seem interesting again. I came tothe conclusion that I should wear them in a bra, and wear panties alongwith them. At first this idea seemed odd, and I wondered why I hadthought it,. ' I asked him 'if it's just you and me, what do IO get out the deal besides a sore butt hole.' Grinning Mr. Ronald said 'don't worry, you want make as much but you will get some money and have plenty fun and games.' Mr. Ronald pulled the car from the parking lot and drove to his home. Once inside we went to his play room where he had everything set up. Mr. Ronald asked me to get undressed and put on a skirt and white female blouse and knee high white bobby socks. I did as requested and Mr.. I kept thinking back to 'The Experiment'.That was chocolate.That was sex.Boy was that sex - oh yes and it was hot.That's one of the problems about chocolate - as if you need me to tell you - it gets hot, it melts - oh and it gets messy - very, very messy.What was that quote of Woody Allen's - 'if it ain't messy you ain't doin' it right.'Yeah or some such thing - whatever!Let me tell you about it.Sam had read about it somewhere, some stupid article in a women's magazine. I'll give Sam that, she. Watching for it will do you no good, for just like a pot of boiling water, the more conscious you are of it, the further from your grasp it slips. Bittersweet and tantalizing, it seeks to wrap you in its’ embrace and hold on for good. It’s beautiful and tormenting, sly and brutally obvious. You want to deny it, to push it from your mind, but to try is to take all that is within you and deny it life. I looked in his eyes and was, in an instant, both scared and provoked at once. They called to.