No. I had to focus. No matter what, I would not let myself in this pathetic position, I was stronger than that. I was very aware how I just passed thr...ugh the first three of the five steps of Grief and Loss in record time, what if we just skipped Depression and headed right on to Acceptance? I was a woman, so what? At least I was not a giant bug like in that Kafka novel! Also, it was just a body! My mind was still that of Matthew Hunnie, a man, and men are famous for their rational thinking! If. “You know something,” she said, grinning, “I never finished reading ‘Middlemarch.’” He jerked his head in feigned shock, causing her to lift her neck to meet his outraged gaze. “Why you little illiterate! I should make you drink Diet Pepsi from these cups from now on. You’re not worthy of tea.” “I did a paper on ‘Daniel Deronda’ though. It’s about as long.” “’Daniel Deronda’? Isn’t that a little obscure?” She purred. “Maybe. But doesn’t that make me a well-read girl after all?” He smiled a look. . Finally, my nuts exploded as their fullness flooded her chamber, she bucked, groaned, then again came that shrill shrieking, as she unloaded her fourth wave of orgasmic releases. She slumped over onto my chest and quivered for several minutes before easing off of my shrinking rod, and going off toward her mother's room. In just a few short minutes, she was back, giggeling and asking me if I would like to go fuck her mother. This had indeed turned into a major service call. Not. She tells me that she wants me to put them on and that she is eager to see what I will look like in the pantyhose. I have tried on pantyhose in the past and I know that the feel of the nightgown as it rubs against the nylons is remarkable. I first put on the pantyhose, sliding them up my legs and over my still inflated cock. I notice that a hole has been cut in the pantyhose and my wife reaches over to pull my dick through it. I then slip the nightgown over my head and down my body. My wife.