You tell me. “Did you just say naked pussy?” I reply. You then tell me that you have no knickers on and that you are soaking wet. I tease you agai... and say that I wish I was tasting your pussy right now. You say that you are going to end the call as you are struggling to concentrate on your driving. About 30 minutes later I hear my doorbell go. You look stunning. You have a blouse on with a short skirt, stocking and suspenders and a pair of high heels. I can see your hard nipples sticking. I promise I’ll answer, but I want to come back to it. Ask the next one.”Taking a chance, he countered, “I’m supposed to call you out over this sort of thing, right?”She nodded. “Yes, and you’re right to. But I’m just reordering my answers. That one will make more sense when you’ve heard the others.”Straight through the heart, then. “Do you think Bill knows, or at least suspects, that we might do something like this? Or worse, that we are doing this?”Her silence lingered for a surprisingly long. I found that those who identified as 'straight' preferred to stay there for their sex experience, and gay guys would sometimes be happy to invite you to their home for 'a session'. I learned that straight fellas tended to visit on their way home from work. They probably weren't 'getting any from the wife', and they knew that there was usually a willing mouth or hand to get them 'de-spunked'. They were easy to tell: never looked you in the eye while you wanked them off, never kissed and would. He was stunning, with big brown eyes and longdark hair. He wore a high school uniform, a red plaid skirt with a whiteblouse and a red jacket. His long legs were encased in black stockingsand his shoes were simple black patent leather pumps. Atop his head hewore a cute pink French beret. He was a tall boy, with a thin waist andquite a bosom. She held her hand out. "I'm Linda." He took it lightly and shook it. "And I'm Gary."Two other boys were with him, both dressed in the same uniform. .