Real men don't squeal and cum intheir panties, letting it dribble down onto theirfully-fashioned stockings. Do they?Still, even though it was emascula...ing, he had REALLYenjoyed every millisecond of what had happened to himthus far.And he had a feeling that it was only the beginning.While Harold was in his reverie, Jane wiped up hisgooies and pulled his panties up. "I hope you'refeeling better now, Honey. Don't you dare let yourselfget so agitated without relief again. Just let me orone of the. .. but even so I immediately knew what it was. It wasn’t that school boy gaze of lust that every girl lives with. His look said three very clear things: I was a woman, he wanted to fuck me, and -- maybe most importantly -- he knew that I knew that’s what he was thinking. An adult was wanting to fuck me not like a girl but like a woman, which means he’d actually wait for me to come, probably.What he didn’t know then -- and what I suddenly and firmly did -- was that he would. And I would.“I guess. I snarfed the sandwich, gave Helen the soup, and sent for the latest proofs from my new photographer. That gave me another hour of new joy. I almost bit Helen's head off when she brought me the messenger packet. She paused at the door, looking troubled. One look at the return address on the package closed my mouth with a click.Helen left, and I opened the package. It was a standard flat document package, like millions of others. However, this one had come from Cynthia. Vaguely, I recalled. And the door itself is raised slightly by two steps - so the letterbox was at eye-height, making it somewhat easier to put the paper through. On this particular day though, when I lifted the flap to put the paper through, I saw somebody coming down the stairs from inside (the stairs were directly opposite the door, and next to it you could see down the corridor to the kitchen). It was a woman, I had no idea who lived here, but she had a nice slim body and I guess she might of been in her 40's,.