I stand in front of Stacey' makeup mirror and look at my thin frame with my loose hair draping well over my shoulders. For the first time the thought ...rosses my mind that I looks a quite feminine. My waist and hips don't look right. In an impulse I grab the tape to measure my waist. It is 29 inches. I compulsively measure my hips and am surprised to see they are 36 inches, somewhat larger than I remembered they used to be a few months ago. I turn sideways and stick in my gut. My chest is a tiny. She was 25, born in London, awoman who'd moved to America to pursue an acting career she never reallyexpected to have. With her dark hair, pale skin, and beautiful big blue-grey eyes, she'd bring to mind actresses of old; Hepburn, Taylor, and soon. She'd be the classic English beauty, with just the right amount ofvulnerability and humility; a quiet girl with a crisp accent and a readysmile. Witty, open, and polite, she'd be a delight for interviewerseverywhere, and a hit with everyone she came. And on the other hand my erection was reeling with sexual anger.Whatever, those two muslim tailors continued playing with my wife’s breasts, consuming as much of the milk as they could suck from her breasts. Time seemed to be frozen, as it were! They inter-exchanged their positions and thus continued to savor the lactic nectar from her breasts, by turns. Her pleasure-moans were getting louder, which suggested me she was now approaching unto her orgasm, and soon she reached one, then another,. At one point during this I had both of my hands on him and he still had more to spare. As I withdrew the catheter and removed it Nathan let out a moan, like a man who just ejaculated. I've done this many times, but hearing him moan like that really stuck with me. I finished up and hurried out to get to my other patients. I visited Nathan several times that night to check on him, he was a very nice man. I returned home after work, the house was empty, the k**s were off to school and husband to.
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