He opened the door to the townhouse and we fumbled over shoes and jackets. Kenneth went right to the kitchen and fetched two more ice cold beers as he...gave me a short tour of the main floor. It included the bathroom, the couch, and the television. The only things I needed at this point other than water and a Tylenol. He flipped on HBO and took a gulp of his beer. In the corner of my eye I watched him adjust his cock under his jeans. “The worst part about going to the rippers is coming home with. I had grown up with my Mother, Aunty, friends of theirs all wearing ffnylon stockings and high heels and me being allowed to mingle with them when they visited for “Gatherings”. I would sit on the floor looking up and around at ffnylon tops being shown, wrinkles galore, sheer, shiny, dark, high heeled perfection. On occasions I was bold enough to stroke those glorious Nylons, generally met by a smile down at me from the owner, a pat on the head, and carry on talking, bliss. In the end my. More

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