She glanced at the clock one more time, just to make sure that it really was seven o’clock, but the red glowing digits on the night stand indicated ...hat now it was seven-o-two and counting! She stretched out, trying to get the circulation moving through her body, and felt her white cotton bikini panties pressing hard against her bulging vulva. The mere pressure from the thin material was enough to flood her vagina with pussy juice, causing her to automatically slip her hand inside her undies. Real men, anyway. I didn'tthink I quite counted as one of those anymore.The dinner was lovely, but I barely noticed the food. I was overwhelmedto everyone around us, Stan and I were obviously a couple. Anyone wouldnaturally assume that we were involved romantically. In the crudestterms, all these people would look at us and assume that Stan and I werehaving sex with each other, or if not, that we would. They were lookingat me and assuming that I was his passive sexual partner. That. More

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