"Why don't you go put a shirt on," I said nervously. "Those aren't doing you any good."She poked at me. "You're just trying to psych me out. Let's pla... for three's now." Well, what do we play for?" I said. "You're studying business; anything worth doing is worth doing for money." Dad, I'm a poor college kid. I don't have money." Okay, whatever."We played; she won.As I was bent over, panting, she said, "Okay, give me your shirt." Huh?" You said whatever. So give me your tank top." She had that. Then something strange and new happened; I could feel something squirt from my poor tortured penis with each throb. The tension subsided with each new wave of contractions and I awoke to find myself alone in bed. I had had my first wet dream.I lay back enjoying the fading remnants of my orgasm and when I touched myself my shorts were wet with sticky semen. I had never understood why the older boys made such a big deal about sex until now; it was a big deal.After a few moments I went to the. The light blue A-lineskirt, with the very short hem; the form-fitting jacket now with silverpiping along the lapels indicating a fully trained hostess, a longsleeved white satin blouse and black patent leather four-inch heels.She's pulling a little overnight carry bag on wheels.Underneath her uniform she is wearing white satin panties and a matchingB-cup brassiere which nicely supports her new firm breasts courtesy ofaugmentation surgery she had undertaken in a hospital in Bangkok sixmonths. As I was off for the weekend and the k**s were away, Glenda had already gone to work, hearing Helen moving around I decided to have a laying, a knock on the door and in walked Helen dropping her gown she got into bed and we started to kiss, grabbing my limp cock she slipped down the bed and gently sucked it hard, “mmmmm morning wood the best thing possible” wanking it slowly before sliding up the bed and got on top feeding it into her pussy and started to grind her hips, as I held her tits I.