I had removed all of the netting by now. As I was eating, my fantasy walked in the door. She bought her food and walked over to my table and said "Hi,...Remember me? My name is Emily, do you mind if I sit here?" I was smiling from ear to ear, when I said, "Oh, absolutely, My name is Tom. Please sit down. It's great to see you again."I told her I had cut all of the netting out of my new shorts and I was now dangling free in the breeze. I moved my chair back just enough so she could see the head of. “Or is that what you call this monster?” She reached down between us and gave my cock a long gentle stroke.“I’ll ... keep it in my pants,” I said.“Yeah. For now.” She shifted and the T-shirt she was wearing came up over her head and off. I was face-to-nipple with her perfect breast. I reached out to lick it softly. “Wait!” she commanded. I jerked back. “Your shirt, too. That was the deal.” It took a little more shifting and her help before I managed to get my shirt off. She had to help feed my. I checked out the manicured lawn while I waited and waited and waited.Finally, a beat-up looking Honda Civic pulled into the drive with some God-awful rap music blaring from inside. This was not starting out so well. The music turned off and a cute little blonde stepped out of the car. At least she was dressed professionally in a mid-thigh black skirt and a smart looking white blouse. “I’m sorry that I’m late Mr. Carrol, I’m Missy, the barista screwed up my latte and I had to go back to. You are momentarily speechless, holding me as your eyes wander down my lithe body, but you quickly recover and begin twirling me around and around. You are a graceful and exquisite dancer, and I marvel at the way you can hold me so delicately yet at the same time lead me in the waltz with such masculine strength and power. As we dance, I run my hand up and down your muscular bicep and tricep, longing to see you without your shirt and jacket. I can tell that you notice my musing as a smirk.