"What in theworld are you talking about?" she demanded. "And what's that got to dowith anything? My boy friend came in here to try on some clothes. No...he's disappeared and my daughter's best friend, who had moved away, hasreplaced him."The woman backed up and raised both hands in a gesture of surrender."Okay, okay," she said. "Let me explain."Long story short, the new thrift store where Tracey, Megan, and I hadgone to shop had been a magic store just a few weeks before, owned bythis same woman.. They had talked easily and with increasing openness as the evening progressed, aided somewhat by the bottle of very good wine David had ordered for them, and by the end of the meal they were well on the way to being comfortable with each other. The sexual magnetism between them was still very much present, though of course unacknowledged.They’d shared a cab on the way home. They’d stopped at Chelsea’s address first and David told the driver to wait for him. He’d accompanied her to the front. He had shaped a wide hallway from Bess’s cave to the laundry that he had built behind their bathroom. It then joined into the passage to his workshop and had a connecting door to the lounge room.The only cloud over Mark was created by Jean. She seemed very reluctant to let their relationship to develop beyond petting and kisses. He hadn’t pushed her since she was still getting her full health back.When she had suggested during lunch, towards the end of their third week together, that he should. . . cocks," she gulped, her eyes widening, as though she'd said a word she shouldn't. "Do they get hard?" "Ye . . . yes," she whimpered. "Do you squeeze their cocks?" "Yes." she breathed. "Do you give them hand jobs?" "So . . . sometimes." "Do they touch you between the legs?" I slid my right hand down onto her leg, stroking idly along her inner thigh, keeping a good several inches away from her panty-covered crotch. "Sometimes," she gasped. "Have they ever made you cum?" "No." .