And the… sorry, the sleep thing… it didn’t help matters. I was in a… a…”“A haze?” Molly offered.“Yeah.” I nodded. “Yeah, exactly... And I keep blaming it on the haze. I kept blaming what happened with us on the haze too. You know, the whole sleep thing or whatever it is y-”“Sexsomnia.”“…Huh?” I turned my body to face her.“It’s called sexsomnia.” she replied, her voice shaky. “I don’t want to get into detail about it. You can Google it yourself. But it explains a lot. I slept in the same bed as. I put my foot down on that one and things were a bit frosty around the house for a few days. Why did I put up with all that shit? Because Debbie had the face of an angel, the body of a porn queen, cooked better than my mother (and believe me, that's saying something), made 75K a year as a systems programmer, and she was the most fantastic piece of ass I'd ever had in my life. I've found that you can overlook an awful lot if you are having your brains fucked out half a dozen times a week -or. I inquired about the presence of a razor in this all female institution to which Sister Margrette replied that it had belonged to a visiting priest who had left it a long time in the past...it was old but should be still usable. I also asked for the method to hold the stockings up and was advised to roll them as I had already figured out for myself. Later, I hoped to be given some garters. Sister Margrette gathered all the remnants of my male clothing into a bundle and, giving me a tour of. Since I was short of time and my parents would return in a couple of days I hatched a plan. Next day, while she was working I came out midway from the bath on the pretext that the water is not coming. I was dressed only in a towel with no undergarments underneath. She immediately went to the kitchen and switched on the motor. As the floor was wet, I fell down intentionally so that my towels dishevel. I screamed in pain listening to which she comes running. Now she became really worried about.