Her tiny hand looked so small, wrapped around my stiff dick. “You’re bigger than Dad. Did I mention that?”“Yes.” I took her hand away, “an... if you don’t stop that, I’ll never get to drink this.” She giggled.I sat on the stool next to her, asked her how her Dad was this morning, and how’s he was coping with the plaster on his ankle.“Oh, he’s sore. Last night after you left, he struggled to get up the hall and into bed. He was a bit smelly so I offered to give him a bath, but he was in pain. So I. I used an extra hard polish and sealer, so I knewthat the color would not chip off his toes anytime soon. I did not planto have any polish remover handy in case he got cold feet later on andwanted to take the color off, although by this time, I really doubtedhe would.When I was sure the final coat of sealer was dry, I had him stand up,escorted him to the hall mirror and watched him stare at our nowmatching feet. Here was my macho husband, standing in our front foyerwearing a woman's gown and. His hand went down and touched her between her breasts, she remained unaffected as she slumbered, I said nothing, just raised my camera and shot as his finger clearly left its indent on her firm but soft flesh.He looked at me again once the photons from the flash dispersed, this time no smile, just a wanton leer, his eyes transfixed on my exposed stocking tops.I made no effort to cover up my indecent posture, I was, after-all, technically in heat.I raised my camera once again as his hand openly. Just then the timer goes off and I laugh and tell you that if you don't let me go your dinner will burn. You kiss me once more (with feeling!) and reluctantly turn me loose. I tell you to go up and shower while I finish dinner, then I prep a salad and clean some strawberries for dessert.I am just finishing setting the table and lighting the candles when you come back down – so we sit down for dinner. It's nice just to relax and have dinner together with nothing else we have to do that night and.