I was so mad at her I totally forgot what day it was.That afternoon is when I was served and my heart stopped. How could things have gone so bad in ju...t two months? My phone calls to her cell were unanswered and the calls to her office were refused. My wife’s secretary, Blanch, wasn’t allowed to send my calls through either. We were friends and she was a co-conspirator for the party. She was tasked with keeping my wife’s schedule clear and to make sure she made it to the hotel on time.She was. From my bedroom window it didn’t look as if it was going to rain it was still so misty when I woke up this morning. Lying in bed tucked under the blanket I spent at least four minutes attempting to motive myself to crawl out into the cold air and turn off the alarm clock that had been buzzing for the past hour or so- or at least I assume it was buzzing for the past hour, one can never be sure of these things when she tends to incorporate the sound of the alarm into some random erotic dream that. You back your panty-clad buns into me, feeling the bulge press against your pussy, wanting it to be deep inside. You lift your hand behind you, reaching into the front of my boxers to clasp my firm shaft and free it from its constraints. You stroke it slowly, running your fingers over the head, spreading the precum along the skin of the shaft, making an erotic squishing sound as you move your hand. Still on you knees, you bend down resting your bare breasts on the cool sheets of the bed, as. She’s a futanari now!”“Pita!” I groaned.“She’s a what now?” Mrs. Asis asked. She peeked in from the kitchen wearing an apron over her sweatpants and t-shirt.“A futanari,” said Pita. “She got that Syndrome yesterday. Wild, right? We’ll be studying and working on our project.”“A futanari...” Mrs. Asis’s jaw dropped. She had the same golden-brown skin as her daughter, her curly-brown hair falling around a face dotted with flour. “You grew a... ?”“Yep,” I said, my cheeks on fire. “Eh, we got a.