I followed her into what was obviously an office. On the bookshelf I realised why she wanted secrecy. There was a photo of her and her husband. I reco...nised him as our local MP. She placed a piece of paper in front of me and asked me to sign it. It was a Non-disclosure Agreement. “I always get these signed when I have certain things done that I don’t want anyone to know” she said “you will notice the section outlining the judicial results if word getting out”. It was not wonder she wanted. Suddenly feelingflushed and light headed. I took a step and hitched my jeans up that hadstarted to feel so tight against my hips.My damn jeans were shrinking, as I watched, the legs shortening, andriding up past my calves, past my thighs, becoming clingy like a secondskin. I could hardly walk, as my feet started to shrink along with my newcustom leather cowboy boots. What the heck, was happening to me?I turned and stumbled, to heck with the mini- mart I had to get back tomy truck. I started. In fact, I am sure that was why he wrote the poem in the first place, to get inside some girl's knickers (not that girls wore knickers in his day).I hardly needed poetic assistance to get inside Fran's knickers, of course (not that she was wearing any either), but the poem still seemed fitting. In a low soft voice I recited."She walks in beauty, like the nightOf cloudless climes and starry skies,And all that's best of dark and brightMeet in her aspect and her eyes;Thus mellow'd to that tender. I think mom might have kept licking Marty’s clit for an hour, but Marty turned sideways on the bed and briefly sat up to grab one of mom’s legs.“I want your cunt on my face,” Marty urged. “Please.”Mom quickly complied and they were 69ing. Mom’s legs were separated at Marty’s shoulders, her ass in the air, her lips on Marty’s clit. I could see drips of moisture trickling down mom’s leg. I had gotten up to be out of the way, but decided it was time to get involved. I knelt behind mom and put the.