I look up at him. His eyes staring down at me. 'Please don't touch me, I'm married'My hands went between my legs and my skirt bunched up high on my th...ghs. I slide my ass forward and lay back slightly. as I spread my legs I pull my panties to one side. The cold air hits my warm moist pussy, a thrill courses through my body. I look out the door at the cock pointing at me.He is holding it, stroking it. I touch myself gently, opening my labia, my pink moist entrance in full view of his eyes, eyes. When I turned around I saw her standing behind me with her nipples sticking out of the red bra that she is wearing. I asked her what her problem was. She told me she is having a head ache and needs a massage.I willingly agreed and told her that she has to stand facing me and hold my shoulders so that I can give a massage to her. She held my shoulders and closed her eyes. I could smell the lovely perfume mixed with sweat from her. I massaged her head a little and then reached her shoulders. Her. She explained to him that for her that wasequally a challenge, as she never was a girly girl, always preferringjeans and tee shirts to dresses. While she now has to wear businesssuites to work today, she still prefers her plain Jane cotton boy shortsand simple bras, while at least Dennis has a preference for the morefeminine underwear already. She added that even while she has no desirefor the more feminine fashion, she has to wear business suites oftenthat include skirts. She further added. The doctors had told him almost five years ago that he would probably die of a heart attack before he succumbed to the cancer that had broken out in odd places on his shrinking frame. He thought of his beloved grandfather that had lived to the ripe old age of eighty-nine and wondered at his secrets of success. He remembered the dapper old man would shave with a straight razor every morning and take a shot of whiskey every four hours like it was some elixir of life that sustained him better than.