My private little viewing was the only thing that mattered just then. Shifting in my seat, I adjusted myself, all too aware of how my swollen cock pre...sed against my jeans, begging to be freed. For a mad moment I considered doing just that, unzipping my Levi’s and pulling it out, knowing how good it would feel to stroke myself as I watched her. Good sense prevailed, and I kept my hands on the back of the seat in front of me, content for the moment, to simply watch this beautiful creature tease. As a reward for my ministrations, Mrs. Jones bought me a set of pussy prostheses. They were quite realistic, held in place with adhesive and melded seamlessly with my body; even the lips were soft and tactile. I liked being free of the straps and waistband of my previous mock fud. A bonus was that my panties no longer had straplines. Each faux pussy had a pronounced mound of Venus which just added to my sense of femininity. The downside was that this mound was clearly apparent when I wore gym. I sat on his lower back and began to massage his shoulders and arms. I expected him to just fall asleep, but he let out a groan of pleasure that went straight to my groin. I massaged every part of his back, working out the knots of tension freeing him to relax for the first time in too many days. His responses lead me to imagine, like me, he hadn’t been touched, even innocently (ok, mostly innocently) in quite a while. I made a decision. I got up and told him to turn over on his back. I didn’t. "Look," she said in a confidential tone, "you know I know it's you from the hotel, and I know you know it's me from the apartment building. I would like to say let's just forget it and start over, but there's just no way that I want to forget what I saw. I kept kicking myself the rest of last night that I didn't take a video on my phone. Stangle thought a lot of you, so I'm going to trust he knew what he was doing. Do you think we can work together effectively?" I'm sure we can," I said.
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