It seemed that Maryanne was still consumed by the experience of her first gangbang, and couldn’t stop thinking and talking about it. If she had any ...egrets they weren’t readily apparent.The first day back at work my friend Don picked me up as he usually did if we were both working the same schedule. It was somewhat awkward being with him again, as he knew what had transpired after he and Sheila had left the party. He broke the ice by asking how Maryanne was, and apologized for taking us to. I smiled, sardonically. "I guess there *isn't* an explanation," I said.Silence. "You don't trust me," she accused."Of course I...!" Pause. "Umm. No, I guess not." Pause again, and an olive branch: "*I* hate it. I mean, I hate *me* when I do it. How could you not? So, uhh, I tried to stop, and... umm, write it out." Cross-dress, you mean," she elaborated. A bit unnecessarily, to my mind. That was what we were talking about already, right? "You like to dress up and look like a girl." She was. More

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