I stood self consciously looking at him feeling more than a little stupid. Quickly I slid down my track suit bottoms to my ankles standing up again im...inently. Samson turned his head to one side looking at me. “Well go on,” I said, “What’s stopping you?” A few seconds passed, Samson didn’t move. “Ok, this is stupid.” I said to myself looking around the kennel. What was I doing before I though. I retraced my steps walking over to the bowl I bent over as I had done so before to fill it with some. But the husband doesn't stop me. So I move my hand gradually higher. My hand edges under her skirt. My hand slowly continues upward until I feel the tops of her stockings. I linger there, drawing circles with my fingers over the lace. The husband can follow my movements by watching his wife's skirt, the fabric moving in concert with my hand. He's so excited that he's practically panting, and he has to momentarily rise off his stool to adjust himself.My hand continues to softly caress his wife's. I want to do it tonight!" All right, Baby. I'll tell you what. Since I'm so tired out, why don't you let me just lie here, on my back, like this? And then you do all the work? OK?" You mean, me on top?" That's right. You know about 'female superior, ' don't you?" Yes."Just the 'yes, ' I got, this time. No little lectures from Alice about Hospital Life and What We Learned in Nursing School."OK, then," I told her. I shifted over to the center of her bed with my body, forcing her, up on her knees. Then she instructed for me to put on my Bodysuit and Stockings. I asked My Mistress pantyhose or garters and stockings, because My Mistress has never asked me to put on Garters and Stockings. When my Mistress texted back “Stockings “ My body shivered with a new excitement, you see my Mistress has not worn her cock in a very long time. The thoughts with me wearing stockings brought the hopefulness of maybe I would be able to at least lick it once or twice. Anticipating the night I did as I was.