It's for emergencies only," shesaid as she handed me the pre-paid cell phone. "I have your numberalready programmed in. I expect you to carry it with ...ou at all times."One minute I was thinking it was a gift for me, the next I realized itwas a gift for her; just another way to assure herself of my safety. The Whitcombs lived only a few blocks away. I could just as easily havewalked over there. I almost went into shock when I saw who was openingthe front door: Marcy Whitcomb. I knew Marcy from. “How dare you, little slut!” she said smoothly, as she began to massage it into her own pussy. “Clearly you can no longer be trusted with it.” Slowly she untied me and, as I stood up, she got into the position that I had just been in. "Spit it inside of me!" she ordered, her still slightly open asshole pointing straight up at me...I moved into position and prised apart her beautifully bouncy ass cheeks. I began licking and swirling my tongue in and around her asshole, gradually pushing more and. Sally drew number one.‘What now?’ she asked innocently.‘Strip, of course,’ said Mike.‘I shall need help,’ she replied, turning to Selma.‘OK,’ said Mike. But then, to his wife, ‘No touching. Not yet, anyway.’Sally turned her back to allow Selma to release the zip of her midnight blue cocktail dress. I knew, of course, that underneath she wore pale blue french knickers, suspenders and stockings but no bra. A murmur from the other onlookers indicated clear approval of my wife’s figure and her. He was doing field research.He first met Cat when they both spoke on a panel about “non-binary gender and gender fluidity in speculative fiction.” Hall had been impressed enough by her grasp of the subject to admit that his own experience working with the androgynous Basari characters on Starship: Gaia hadn’t given him much expertise on the subject and that the way they were scripted - with one of the Basari choosing to take a female form to fit in better with the human crew - had indeed.