I have never been given instructions to visit a dress shop! I do not have any dresses. When I get back to the Dacha, I will be naked again. For goodne...s sake, what have I been doing?I can't remember the instructions I have been given: where to go, what shop to visit, what to buy, when to return, what Metro station to use, how much money to spend, what change to arrive back with. In panic, I look wildly up and down the street. My sense of panic deepens. There is no Metro station to be seen. No. She said I was welcome to return. I did. And she was just as helpful,remembering me. She asked me to present as a woman next time I visited;said she would love to see me dressed. But I was too scared. And then Ididn't want to disappoint her, so I never went back. I feel like I lether down.This is embarrassing. I was still living at home at the time. Imagine across-dresser in his mid-twenties trying to hide his clothes from hisparents; trying to dress without their knowledge.Do we have to do. He was pawing at her round tits and sucking her neck sloppiliy. Susan appeared to be trying to endure it, but seemed impatient. From where I was peeking, I could see them, but they could not see me. "Damn woman, you've gotten me all worked up again. Suck me off Susan, I need a quickie," dad said as he squeezed her meaty ass hard, cupping and massaging her lewdly. She seemed surprised. They were standing at the front door, and my dad wanted a blowjob, while I was in the next room. (Not sure what. Besides the tips I received were quitegenerous.Most of my work time I spent in the restaurant but several times a weekI would have to run one or two deliveries. It was mostly when one of theother drivers didn't come in. Like on nights when there was a game atthe high school. It was on one of these nights that I met Stan Franklinfor the first time.Stan was not one of our local residents. He owned a large two story homeabout ten miles outside of town that he lived in on the weekends. Duringthe.