He was very slim like me,slight even, wearing slightly feminine sweat pants and a green t-shirt. I imagined he had a nice pair of panties on underneat... like I did. Iactually started to become hot. He had shoulder length blond hair, andno hint of stubble. His lips were slim and round eyes, innocent butsexy. I guess he looked clean to me, not dirty, like the older guy inthe corner.As I thumbed through the PVC corsets, I caught him looking at me. I wasstartled when our eyes met, but I did not. Pressing up against each other, they looked as if they were passively fighting for control of the mile-long asscrack in the middle. Each asscheek was about a foot and a half wide. Billowing outwards like two super-soft pillows, I just wanted to bury myself in them! But I didn’t, not yet. First, I touched them lightly with the palms of my hands, one hand per cheek. Fat Bud moaned sensually as he appreciated my attentive touch. I moved my hands over his entire ass, moving over the tops of his. Although this wasn't what he had imaginedhe would be examining in Sheila's room - not by a long, long ways -Hank walked over to mirror. As he put his hand on the frame, he wassurprised at its texture. The frame was soft and smooth; it yieldedto his touch. Impossibly, it seemed more like human flesh instead ofsome ancient wood. "What's this frame made of, Sheila?" he askedcuriously."It's made from an extremely rare wood," replied Sheila. "There aresome who might even call this wood enchanted.". To anybody unfamiliar with white Afrikaans culture, to start speaking to anyone, without first introducing yourself, is the height of rudeness. Raised in a fifty-fifty, English and Afrikaans-speaking family, I was familiar with this practice.“I’m Gary," I answered.Wikus then went on to tell me that he was from up north, and with the new dispensation in South Africa, jobs were scarce for white men like him. His tone was not bitter but manifested a rueful acquiescence that things are what they.